Memories Apart From Reality
by ScribbleWiggy
Summary: Cheyanne Baggins - soon to be Queen Under the Mountain, cousin of Bilbo Baggins, and Hobbit that was never meant to exist. When Gandalf the Grey's attempt to separate her two lives fails, and Cheyanne begins to suffer from terrible dreams in which her reality and her memories coincide in a dark dimension, a battle on two fronts begins. If it isn't won, Middle-earth could be lost.
1. Concerning Prologues

Bilbo Baggins gazed down at the stream his pony was drinking from, watching his reflection waver in the waves that resulted from the pony's drinking.

He was thinking about how he wished he was still in Erebor, and also about how he wanted to get home. It felt like his heart was in two places at once. It was terrible.

What was the point of going home if he was going to miss Erebor? If he was going to miss the Company, Thorin, his cousin? If he… if he was going to miss the adventure of it all?

"Bilbo." He lifted his head and found Gandalf watching him from the back of his horse. "You are deep in thought," the wizard observed.

Bilbo nodded. "I don't know where I want to be," he explained. "I -" He cut himself off and chuckled. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. We're so close to home."

"We are," Gandalf agreed. He glanced away from where Bilbo was seated on his pony and looked into the distance, towards where the Shire and Bag End lay waiting. He then turned to Bilbo again and saw the Hobbit was looking at the stream once more. "You don't seem overjoyed, as I thought you would be."

Bilbo shook his head. "I… I should be happy, shouldn't I?" he asked softly. "But I cannot be."

"And why is that?" Gandalf queried.

Bilbo stayed quiet for a moment. What was the biggest issue?

After a second, he sighed. "Cheyanne."

The wizard let out a breath. "What about her?"

"I shouldn't have let her make me leave," Bilbo answered. "She will be married as soon as the spring arrives, and I will not be there for it, though I should be."

Gandalf gazed at the Hobbit, waiting for more, but Bilbo was silent. "Bilbo, it is your choice," the wizard began. "You may turn around and go back the way you came."

Bilbo looked up from the water and turned wide eyes to Gandalf. "We have traveled all this way -"

"For naught, if you would rather be with your cousin."

Bilbo's eyebrows drew together and he turned away again. Gandalf watched him. After a long moment, the Hobbit shook his head. "No." He looked at Gandalf. "We're almost there. I shouldn't turn away now."

"That is you decision," Gandalf concluded. "We continue on to the Shire?"

Bilbo nodded once, and directed his pony away from the stream. A small smile lit his features as he thought of Cheyanne riding a pony in front of him, at the very start of their journey. After a time, he realized that he could ride the pony on his own, but he didn't want to get off the one they shared.

Gandalf saw the smile and formed one of his own. The poor Hobbit. He didn't want to return home. They both knew that. Still, it was up to Bilbo to realize it, and inform Gandalf when he had. The wizard would take him back. He'd told Cheyanne he would watch out for her cousin, and that was what he aimed to do.

Bilbo, however, needed to make the first move.

And when he did, Gandalf assumed, both Hobbits would be much better off.


	2. A Long-expected Fitting

**Hey! How's it going? Pretty good? Awesome!**

 **So, here we are. In the sequel to _Maybe I Won't Go Back Again_ , which I suggest you read before this story, or none of the stuff in here will make sense. **

**Right, so... I sort of don't really have the whole thing written out yet, so updates are going to be a bit sporadic until I do. Mostly, however, I know what my storyline is. I just need to actually write it in a story that makes sense. You feel?**

 **Yeah, you feel.**

 **Anyhow, expect updates at odd intervals until I have a stronger foundation. Until then, though, enjoy what I have! I'm glad to be writing about Cheyanne again. She's pretty great.**

* * *

"Not necessary," Cheyanne muttered for the eighth time since she and Dwalin had left Erebor for Dale. On pony back. "Why did we have to ride the pony?"

"Because," Dwalin started, for the eighth time, "we would have moved to slowly on foot with your injury, and it would have taken us all day. Thorin wants us back before sundown."

"I just don't get it," Cheyanne grumbled. "What if I fall off the pony and hurt myself again?"

"Cheyanne, which do you think the more likely: you falling off the pony, or us taking forever to get to Dale because of how slow you walk?" Dwalin queried.

Cheyanne, who was sitting in front of him on the pony so that she was safely trapped between his arms, glared at him from over her shoulder. Dwalin gifted her with a grin, and she rolled her eyes before facing forward again.

She had told both Dwalin and Thorin, he husband/king-to-be, that the injury she had sustained during the Battle of the Five Armies was feeling much better. She supposed, however, that the limp she had grown accustomed to walking with had stuck, because they hadn't believed her. Even if her ribs no longer ached, there was still a ghost of the injury in her form, and both the Dwarves saw it.

In a way, Cheyanne appreciated their over protectiveness. She supposed it was that, or hurt herself again by doing something reckless. Like walking all the way to Dale.

Dammit, she hated when Dwalin and Thorin were right.

They rode along in silence for a few moments, until Cheyanne let out a sigh and leaned back against the Dwalin. "Do you… Do you think Bilbo's all right?" she asked quietly.

Dwalin let out a breath behind her. "I'm sure he's fine, lass."

"A lot can happen in the time he's been gone," she said.

"Cheyanne, he has Gandalf with him. The wizard won't let anything happen to him," Dwalin assured her. "Especially if you're waiting in Erebor to beat 'im if something does happen to your cousin."

Cheyanne had to laugh at that. "You're right," she agreed. She waited a few more moments before she said, "Do you think I should have gone with them?"

"Why in the Valar would you ask me a thing like that?" Dwalin demanded. "You know what my answer is!" He hesitated, waiting for her to say something more. Cheyanne didn't, because she didn't know what to say. "You… you don't think -?"

"Of course not," Cheyanne said, though she didn't know if she believed herself. "I mean, I would never want to leave Thorin, or any of you, but I didn't want to leave Bilbo, either."

Dwalin was quiet for a moment, and she was momentarily afraid he would let her fall off the horse. Instead, however, he released the reins with one hand and wrapped his arm around her in a tight hug. "I realize that you miss your cousin," he said gently. "I understand that. Thorin does, too. But we need you to remember what you were agreeing to when you said yes to Thorin's proposal. Can you do that?"

Cheyanne closed her eyes. Of course she could. She just… she was still unsure about being able to do what she'd agreed to without Bilbo.

But, Valar, wouldn't she be kidding herself if she said that she regretted sending him back to Bag End? Yes. Bilbo needed to go home, and she had to stay where she was. That was just how it was meant to be. Of course, she wouldn't have minded it if Bilbo had stayed, if he had fought a bit harder against her attempt to send him home.

 _Well, which is it, Cheyanne?_

She rolled her eyes at herself this time. She was really having a hard time deciding whether or not she'd made the wrong decision by asking her cousin to leave. She'd thought she knew that it was the right choice, but even after all this time, she wasn't sure.

"Cheyanne?" Dwalin was talking to her again, still waiting for an answer to his question.

Cheyenne let out a breath. "I think so," she said after another pause. "I'm just miss him, that's all."

It wasn't, but she couldn't put her thoughts into words, not just then, and not with Dwalin. Not that she couldn't talk to Dwalin about it; it was Thorin she needed to speak with first.

Dwalin didn't attempt to pry, and she was grateful for that. Instead, he gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then returned his hand to the reins, giving them a gentle flick. Their pony picked up pace, and Cheyenne scooted closer against the Dwarf behind her, closing her eyes.

Cheyanne Baggins, soon to be the wife and queen of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. He wouldn't be king for a while, and she wouldn't be queen until after he became king. If she had her way with Balin and his wedding planning.

She really couldn't believe it, even with how real it felt. Here she was, riding to Dale to try on her wedding dress. When had time moved so quickly that it was already time to do that? When had she convinced Thorin that she was the one who he wanted by his side to rule a kingdom? Her, a Hobbit, with no idea as to how to be a queen, let alone be a queen of a completely different race.

"Chey?" She opened her eyes at Dwalin's voice, and saw he was pointing towards Dale. "Do you see that?"

She squinted against the mid-morning sunlight that was blinking against the white stone and marble of the reforming city, trying to focus on what he was gesturing to. "What?" she finally queried.

"That house right there," Dwalin explained, waving his hand. Cheyanne tilted her head and followed his finger exactly. Ah, there it was. It was a splendid building, white walls with a golden trim beneath the roof. It looked like a palace.

"What about it?" she asked. "Other than the fact that it's the only thing that slightly resembles what Dale probably looked like before?"

"That's where the boatman and his family live now," Dwalin said. "Apparently, the townsfolk wanted that built first, so Bard wouldn't leave them."

Cheyanne had to smile at the thought. "That's funny."

"It is, isn't it?" Dwalin chuckled. "As though Bard would leave the people he fought so hard to save."

"Yeah," Cheyanne agreed, her smile fading and her eyebrows coming together.

 _Nothing that reflects Bilbo_ , she told herself firmly. _Nothing at all_.

It was a lie, however, and she knew it. Bilbo had saved the Dwarves, and she'd made him leave. She was the villain in the situation, and no one realized it aside from herself.

"This is why people go mad," she murmured under her breath.

"What was that?" Dwalin questioned.

"Nothing," Cheyanne answered. "Just me talking to myself, that's all." She sighed silently and glanced up at the sky.

The shop in Dale they arrived in, a quaint little building with a small front room and several back rooms, was filled with woman of all kinds shuffling about, carrying fabric or spools of thread or needles. One such woman, an elf, actually, spotted Dwalin and Cheyanne standing at the entrance, and came over to them, her skirts floating about her legs regally in a way Cheyanne would never dream of having.

"Welcome!" the elf said, gracing them both with a slight curtsey.

Dwalin had immediately frowned at the elf's approach, so Cheyanne was left to smile in return to the greeting. "Hello," she said as the elf straightened. "I'm here for my first fitting for my wedding dress."

The elf gave her a light smile. "Yes, my lady," she said sweetly. "I know who you are." She clapped her hands together and then waved one. " _Tolo_!"

Cheyanne took that as a command to follow and hurried after the swift moving elf through the shop towards one of the back rooms, grabbing Dwalin's hand to ensure he followed. The elf stopped almost as soon as she took his hand and turned around.

"No," she said sternly, waving her hand again. Almost at once, another female, human this time, came forward and tugged Dwalin's other arm.

"Hey!" the Dwarf exclaimed, though he resisted the urge to brush her off. He glared at the elf. "Her betrothed asked that I stay with his bride-to-be," he said thickly. "I intend to do as he asked of me."

"We will not be taking you away away, _mellon_ ," the elf assured. "But it would not be appropriate for you to be in the room while she changed, would it?"

Dwalin turned a dark red, and, before Cheyanne could determine whether it was from anger or embarrassment, she placed a hand on his arm. "I'll be all right, Dwalin," she assured. "When I'm done I'll come right out."

Dwalin gave the elf one final distrustful look before he grunted and shuffled off in the direction the woman pulled him. Cheyanne turned back to the elf, who was beaming at her.

"My lady, I apologize," she started, sweeping into another curtsy. "My name is Hammaril."

Cheyanne dipped her head. "It is very nice to meet you."

Hammaril straightened and offered her hand. "Come," she said. "We must see how the dress looks."

"Right," Cheyanne agreed, accepting the proffered hand. The elven fingers were long and elegant as they wrapped around Cheyanne's smaller hand, and Hammaril pulled her into the back room they had previously been going towards. She ushered Cheyanne inside, and then disappeared, closing the door.

Cheyanne glanced around the room. There was a looking glass in one corner, propped up on golden legs, and a small window looked out onto the street of Dale behind the shop. A chair waited beneath the window, and Cheyanne stepped towards it, sitting down with a sigh before covering her face with her hands.

A few minutes passed, and then there was a knock on the door. Hammaril appeared, holding a big white box in her hands. She stepped into the room, and following behind her were two women, both human.

"Lady Cheyanne, these are close friends of mine," the elf began. "Elyssa and Kari." She nodded first to one, and then the other, and both humans gave Cheyanne deep curtsies.

Cheyanne winced internally as she stood up, her rib aching. All this excitement was making it hurt again.

 _I_ really _hate it when Dwalin and Thorin are right._

"Hello," she said to the two women.

Hammaril had set the box down on the floor and was pulling the lid off. When she did, she pulled out what looked simply like a white sheet to Cheyanne, and held it up. Cheyanne tilted her head, looking for any kind of wedding dress aspect on the cloth, but that's all it was. A cloth, sewed to look like a dress.

Hammaril noticed her frown of confusion, and she smiled sweetly, brushing black hair back over her shoulder with one hand. "It isn't close to done yet, my lady," she said. "This is simply a trial to make sure I have the measurements correct."

"Ah," Cheyanne replied, understanding. "All right."

Hammaril gestured to her with her head, and Elyssa and Kari came towards her and began to undress her. Cheyanne didn't know how to respond to this, so she simply lifted her arms and stepped out of her skirt when she deemed it time, and stood, shivering, in her small clothes.

"Hamm -" Before she could finish saying the elf's name, the dress had been tossed over her head. Cheyanne quickly pushed her arms through the holes designated for that purpose, and blew hair that had been pulled loose from her braid out of her face.

Hammaril stepped back and put her hand to her chin, studying Cheyanne. "Well," she said after a moment, glancing at her friends, "it fits."

Cheyanne looked down at herself. She felt like she was wrapped in a rag, and it was kind of what she looked like. She hadn't expected much else; she never really looked good in dresses.

"Do not fret, _mellon_ ," Hammaril told her before she could speak. "It will be beautiful by the time you return, I promise."

Cheyanne managed a grin that probably resembled a grimace, and remained silent as she was pulled out of the practice wedding dress and put back into her other clothing. Hammaril then hurried her out of the room, and Cheyanne returned to Dwalin, whose brow furrowed as soon as he saw her face.

"What did they do?" he asked.

"Nothing," Cheyanne assured. "I just don't feel very well. May we return to Erebor?"

"At once," Dwalin agreed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and leading her out of the dress shop. As he helped her onto their shared pony, Cheyanne considered just flicking the reins and riding away as quickly as she could. Dwalin sensed this, somehow, and pulled himself up a moment after the thought entered her mind.

"Back to Erebor!" he declared, turning the pony in that direction.

Cheyanne didn't say anything in response.

* * *

 **Now, when I was writing my Grand Theft Auto FanFic, I did this thing where I asked a question at the end of every chapter. I like getting reviews, and asking a question that the readers need to answer gave me reviews, so I think it was a win-win scenario.**

 **So, questions at the end of every chapter, and then I'll respond to the answers at the beginning of the next chapter. Sound good?**

 **Question, then: HOW PUMPED ARE WE THAT THERE'S A SEQUEL?**


	3. The Shadow of the Dismissal

**It's amazing how much a person can write when the only thing they write for the first week of their summer break is the FanFiction they're supposed to be working on.**

 **I actually have it almost entirely written, now! Hurray for me!**

* * *

The day passed by uneventfully once Cheyanne and Dwalin returned to Erebor. Thorin was busy with council meetings, and so Cheyanne found company with Ori in a small room near his quarters that he had decorated in drawings. He smiled as soon as she appeared at the door, and immediately offered for her to stay.

"I was just drawing out some things for the flower arrangements," he explained, leading her towards the desk against one wall. She looked down at the picture and smiled to herself. It was a lovely illustration of a vase filled with calla lilies and purple larkspur.

"It's beautiful, Ori."

The young Dwarf beamed. "You think so? I know blue is the royal color, but I think purple suits you better. This wedding isn't just about Thorin." He cringed as soon as he said it. "Sorry," he murmured. "That came out wrong."

"No," Cheyanne answered, "it's all right, Ori. I know what you meant." She tilted her head and touched the drawing of the vase. "Perhaps we can wrap a blue ribbon around the vases."

Ori's eyes brightened. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "That's a great idea!" He sat down and picked up a pencil and began to draw the outline of the ribbon. "So, you're here because everyone else in in the council meeting, right?"

"Yes," Cheyanne sighed, sinking into a spare chair just behind his desk. "The trip to Dale made my rib start to hurt, so I'm waiting for someone to come out and pay attention to my complaining."

Ori glanced over his shoulder at her. "Do you need me to get Oin?" he asked, his brow drawing together.

"No," Cheyanne said, shaking her head. "I think I'll be all right. I just need some rest."

"Well, you're welcome to stay with me until the council meeting is over," Ori told her. "I think they were going to talk about the others arriving from Ered Luin, and about preparations needing to be made."

"Which is something I should be apart of," Cheyanne concluded, "but I don't feel like going in there and causing a scene by interrupting."

"Right," Ori agreed. "It's best if you stay and wait. I'm sure Thorin will fill you in." He grunted and tilted his head back and forth for a moment. "Too gaudy," he murmured at last.

"I think it depends on what the vase looks like," Charlotte mused absently, gazing at a drawing of a sunset hanging nearby.

"Yes," Ori said. "You're right, of course. I think something… mmm…"

Cheyanne rose and went to see his progress. He had drawn a ribbon onto the picture of the flower arrangement, and it was rather large. She let out a hum and pointed to the bow part of the ribbon. "Make the edges less pointed," she suggested, "and a little smaller."

Ori did as she said, erasing the edges and redrawing them to her standards. When it was done, she smiled and nodded. "Perfect."

"Cheyanne?" Both she and Ori turned at the voice, and Cheyanne went forward to accept the hug Thorin offered to her. His grip was gentle, as though he knew she was aching, and he let her pull back, brushing a still-loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Are you feeling all right? Dwalin said you seemed distracted on the journey back."

Cheyanne shrugged. "My rib hurts a bit, but it's bearable."

Thorin frowned, but glanced past her at Ori. "Thank you for keeping her company," he said.

"Of course," Ori replied.

"Come, Chey." She waved to Ori and slid her arm through the crook of Thorin's elbow. The two of them walked from Ori's drawing room and towards the stairs that would take them to the throne hall.

"How did the meeting go?" she asked him.

"Fine," Thorin answered. "My sister wrote and said that most of the Dwarves will be arriving within the next month or so. She's coming along with them, so that she can be present for the wedding."

"Speaking of which," Cheyanne inserted, "did Balin even look at my letter?"

Thorin's mouth curved upwards in the semblance of a smile. "He did, and he was frustrated with the notion until I suggested that it would be more proper if everyone was here for the ceremony. He didn't want to agree, but he did, eventually."

Cheyanne's spirits blossomed. "Does this mean we're waiting until the other Dwarves arrive?"

"Yes," Thorin said. "You will get your traditional wedding."

"Without the being apart from one another piece, right?"

Thorin granted her a real smile this time. "Yes, 'ibin, though, he does ask that you move to a separate bedchamber, at least."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'd still get to see you, though?" Thorin nodded, and she sighed to herself. "I suppose that's fine, then." Despite how much she enjoyed sleeping with him, she'd hate not seeing him at all even more. She leaned her head against Thorin's arm. "Hammaril gets more time to make my dress."

"Hammaril?"

"Yes," Cheyanne answered, beginning to chuckle. "She was the very exuberant Elf who helped me while Dwalin and I were in Dale at the dress shop. She seems to know what she wants, and she isn't worried in the slightest about putting a Hobbit in a wedding dress."

"You don't need to worry about that, either," Thorin assured her. "You'll look beautiful no matter what you wear."

"So… you're saying I could walk down the aisle wearing a sack, and you wouldn't be ashamed?" Cheyanne queried teasingly.

Thorin chuckled. "No, but I don't think any of the others would approve." Cheyanne let out a noise of mock disappointment, but giggled as soon as she was done. "What?" Thorin asked.

"I was just imagining the look on Balin's face if, instead of a white dress, I appeared at the end of the aisle in a potato sack."

Thorin shook his head, but he was grinning. "That would be a sight," he said. "Now, Balin did want to see you about something…"

Cheyanne groaned. "I think I know what that 'something' is," she sighed. "Where do you think we'll find him?"

"I'm sure he's lurking somewhere nearby," Thorin said.

Indeed, Balin appeared around the corner ahead of them almost as soon as he'd finished speaking, and Cheyanne laughed at the look Thorin gave her.

Balin glanced up from the scroll he was scribbling on, and lowered the pocket glass from his eye, slipping it into his pocket. "Cheyanne! I'm glad I found you! We need to go over our daily Khuzdul lessons."

Cheyanne rolled her eyes up at Thorin, who gave her a playful nudge in response. She pushed him away and looked back at Balin. "Right now?"

"Yes, now," Balin said sternly. He gave her a pointed look, and then sent another in Thorin's direction.

With a sigh, Thorin gave her a gentle push towards the other Dwarf. Cheyanne gave him a pleading look, but Thorin merely shook his head.

Cheyanne muttered under her breath, but all the same left Thorin's side fully to join Balin. He gave Thorin a nod and led the Hobbit away. Thorin watched them go with a small smile, before he let out a breath and turned to go the other way.

He walked towards the throne hall, taking the more direct path that would have taken him and Cheyanne there much quicker. He'd led her on the other one on purpose, at Balin's request. He understood Cheyanne's qualms with the lessons - Balin wasn't a very agreeable teacher when it came to learning languages - but it was necessary. Before the other Dwarves arrived, she needed to know basic greetings and farewells, as well as grateful responses and…

The corner of Thorin's mouth quirked upwards. The Seven Blessings. When he was younger, he'd never thought he'd be saying those with anyone other than a Dwarrowdam. Not that he didn't want to say them with Cheyanne. He wouldn't have it any other way. She was his One, and he'd known it since he'd first saw her.

He wouldn't share this with anyone, not even Cheyanne herself, but the reason he had been so awful to her when they met was because he didn't want to accept the fact she was his match. She was a Hobbit, after all, and it wouldn't have been right.

That was almost a year and a half ago, though, and he no longer bothered with such things as traditions. Not anymore. After everything that had happened to him and his people, didn't they deserve to be happy? Didn't he deserve to marry his One, to rule the other Dwarves with her? Why would Cheyanne be his One, if she wasn't meant to be Queen Under the Mountain?

His lamenting had brought him to the throne hall without knowing it, and he paused, gazing up at the proud throne on the dais ahead of him. It was his, or would be as soon as the other Dwarves arrived and the coronation was held. One day, hopefully, it would be his son's, and Thorin would prove to be a good enough ruler that his son will follow in his footsteps and rule greatly as well.

"Uncle!" Thorin turned away from the throne at Fili's voice, and found both his nephews hurrying up the stairs towards him. Thorin tilted his head as they skidded to a halt before him and began talking, both at once.

"Stop," Thorin commanded, his voice rising above the sounds of theirs, "and take a breath." Fili and Kili both snapped their mouths shut and did as he'd ordered. Thorin waited, and then turned to his older nephew. "Fili?"

"Kili and I were talking, and we decided that we want to be the decoration committee," Fili informed him.

Thorin crossed his arms. "Decoration committee?"

"Yes," Kili agreed. "You know, for the decorations. For the wedding."

"And coronation!" Fili threw in.

"And what, pray tell, would you be doing exactly?" Thorin queried.

"Decorating!" both exclaimed. Thorin raised his eyebrow, and the brothers exchanged a glance.

"We'll put up the table cloths and the flower arrangements, once we get them made," Fili said.

"And figure out how the ceremony place will look and arrange it accordingly," Kili added.

"We have an eye for decorating, Uncle," Fili went on.

"You must agree with that, at least," Kili finished.

They stopped then, thankfully, and Thorin gave them a shake of his head. "No."

"But Thorin!"

"Uncle, please!"

"Why would I give the job to the two of you when there are plenty of Dwarves on their way here who have been decorating their entire lives?" Thorin asked them, turning away and heading for the throne.

His nephews hurried after him. "Because -"

"- we want to help -"

"- and this is the best job for us!"

Thorin stopped in front of the throne and turned around again. Fili and Kili slid to another halt before they could run into him and looked at him pleadingly.

He rolled his eyes upwards. "Kili, I already agreed to let you play with whatever band we pull together," he began, "and Fili, you know what your job is."

"But that's during the ceremonies!" they said at the same time.

"We want to help plan," Fili said, giving his brother a look.

Thorin glanced past them as Dwalin appeared up the stairs leading to the throne, and then he met each nephew's gaze. "I will think about it."

The younger Dwarves exchanged gleeful glances. "Thank you, Uncle!" Kili said happily, hopping away past Dwalin.

Fili remained where he was, and Thorin looked at Dwalin. "What is it?" he asked.

"A rider from Dale brought this to the gates," Dwalin answered, holding out his hand. Thorin lifted an eyebrow when he saw it was a letter.

Fili took it from Dwalin and looked at the seal. "Looks like it's from mother," he said, offering it to Thorin.

He accepted it at glanced at the seal himself. Indeed, it was from Dis. "We just received a letter not a day ago," he mused, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment.

In strong, blocky Khuzdul, a script that only his far-from-feminine sister could accomplish, Dis wrote that the head of the caravan was within sights of the Long Lake and were only a week's march away from Dale's gates. Another day, and they would be at Erebor's.

"One week?" Thorin was a little more than surprised. His sister had made very good time.

"She did say that they were only going to sleep when absolutely necessary," Dwalin commented. "Dis has been pushing the others very hard to get home."

"Not surprising that the others haven't started a revolt against my mother," Fili said. "They want to get to Erebor as quickly as they can, too."

They weren't wrong, Thorin supposed. And he wasn't complaining. He wanted the Dwarves home as soon as possible. Of course, that didn't give the thirteen of them much time to make sure there were enough accommodations for the arrivals.

"Fili, go find Balin," Thorin said. "He's with Cheyanne for their Khuzdul lesson."

Fili dipped his head and went off to do that. Thorin folded the letter from Dis and slid it away into one of his pockets, aware of Dwalin's gaze on him. He glanced at his friend.

"What is it?"

"You're worried," Dwalin said.

"I'm what?"

"Worried. About introducing Cheyanne to Dis." Dwalin tilted his head. "No… about presenting her to everyone."

Thorin frowned. "Of course I am. It isn't as though I just assumed everyone would fall in love with her instantly. Mahal knows I certainly didn't."

"But you knew," Dwalin said.

"I did," Thorin agreed.

"And so will the others," his friend concluded. "When they see she makes you happy, they'll be happy."

Thorin looked at his friend, and saw Dwalin was smiling, which meant he was positive he was right. Thorin had to smile back, and Dwalin stepped forward enough to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"You fell in love with her, we fell in love with her… everyone else will as well."

"Thank you, Dwalin," Thorin said gratefully.

"Of course."

A few minutes later, Balin was puffing on his way up the stairs, Cheyanne behind him. She skirted the Dwarf and pushed past Dwalin to get to Thorin, pressing herself against his side.

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered, gazing up at him.

"It wasn't going too terribly," Balin argued, reaching Dwalin's side. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to steady himself, and he gave the Hobbit a playful look. "You just weren't paying attention."

Cheyanne frowned at him and lifted her chin. Thorin shook his head and met Balin's gaze. "Dis and the others will be arriving in one week."

"One?" The word came from Cheyanne and Balin both, and Thorin felt Cheyanne stiffen beside him while Balin glanced at Dwalin.

"That seems a bit… soon," he said after a moment.

"I thought the same thing," Thorin agreed. "However, when you consider the timing, it make sense. They took a much more direct route than we did, and they must have had less distractions than us."

" _And_ you had a lousy sense of direction," Cheyanne put in.

Thorin ignored the remark. "We need to make sure everything is ready for their arrival," he said to Balin.

"Right," the older Dwarf agreed. "I'll get the others jobs to do immediately. Erebor will be prepared for its residents, Thorin."

"Good." He looked down at his Hobbit. "I suppose we'll need to plan your Khuzdul lessons around Balin's own schedule."

"Or I could just not have them," Cheyanne suggested.

"Good try," Thorin said, and Cheyanne let out a sigh as he turned back to Balin. "Let's gather everyone in the council chamber and hold another meeting."

"Right away," Balin answered. He and Dwalin shuffled off to find everyone, and Thorin turned back around to face the throne, eyeing its intricate carving.

Cheyanne joined him, and she reached out one small hand to touch an armrest.

"You don't sit in it," she commented.

Thorin shook his head. "Not until I am given the crown."

He watched her eyes drift upwards, to where the Arkenstone originally held its place in the throne. "Where is it?" she asked.

"Somewhere safe," Thorin answered. He reached for her left hand and ran his thumb across the gem in the center of her ring. "And nearby."

"I mean the rest of it, Thorin," Cheyanne said with a smile.

He returned it and lifted his shoulders. "All over. Some lies with Thranduil, some with Dain, some with Bard. There's a small section in the golden crown we had forged for the Eagle King. No one has a bigger piece than another, and ours is right here." He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on it.

"Were you really just allowed to give it away like that?" Cheyanne asked him in surprise.

"Well, it belonged to the line of Durin, and I am the head of the line," he said to her. "It was best that it never have been discovered, and now we have no reason to worry about anyone losing their minds over it again, do we?" She shrugged, and Thorin smiled. "Now, shall we get to the council chamber?"

Cheyanne nodded, and together, they left the throne hall, Cheyanne's hand still in his.

"Do you need more?" Thorin asked her later that evening, referring to the stew they had just eaten.

Cheyanne shook her head, leaning back in her chair. "I'm full enough as it is. Thank you for asking, though."

"No dessert then, I take it?" Thorin queried, his tone teasing.

Cheyanne gazed at him as he picked up their bowls and replaced them on the tray Ori had carried to their bedchamber. Cheyanne frowned as she remembered she would be leaving the bedchamber in a few days and getting her own bridal suite.

Thorin saw the frown and sighed to himself. "At least we're not being separated entirely."

"True enough," she murmured, glancing away. She studied the wall that their big canopy bed was stationed against and rose, walking over to it. Thorin looked over his shoulder at her from where he was putting their dishes back on the tray.

"What are you looking for, 'ibin?"

"Where does this wall lead?" she asked him, touching it with one hand.

"Why?"

"Where does it lead?"

Thorin shook his head. "Out, towards Dale." Cheyanne let out a hum in response, and Thorin turned to face her fully, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you thinking?"

She looked at him, smiling. "I'm thinking we could do with a window."

Thorin had to grin. "You won't want to put that in here."

"Why not?"

"Because this is not the King and Queen's private apartment."

Cheyanne's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, 'ibin, that we will have a completely new place we will be sleeping that is not my old bedchamber," Thorin answered. "And that is where you may put your window, if you deem it completely necessary."

"I need a window."

"Then you will have a window," Thorin promised.

"Where does the King and Queen's apartment face?" Cheyanne asked, crossing the floor towards him.

Thorin considered the question for a moment. "I believe ours will face Dale as well," he replied at last. "We will check, though, before knocking out an entire wall to put a window there."

"It would be useless if we ended up knocking into some long forgotten bedchamber," Cheyanne agreed. She sighed to herself as Thorin pulled her into his arms, and the Dwarf frowned.

"What troubles you?" he queried.

"Do you want the truth, or would you like me to lie so I do not worry you?" Cheyanne responded. Thorin's brow furrowed in worry.

"Are you having your nightmares again?"

Cheyanne stiffened in his arms, and he turned her around so that he could look down into her face. She glanced up at him, and Thorin let out a breath at the look in her eyes.

"Not the nightmares, then?"

"No, but thank you for the pleasant reminder," Cheyanne said, her voice low.

"I apologize," Thorin murmured, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "I did not mean to upset you further." He placed a kiss on her forehead, and then met her eyes again. "Tell me the truth."

Cheyanne's shoulders rose and fell. "I can't stop thinking about Bilbo."

Thorin smiled. "That was going to be my second guess." Cheyanne did not return the grin, nor did she give anything else away. Thorin's smile faded. "What about Bilbo?"

"About how… he should be here," Cheyanne said. "What else is there?" She pulled out of his arms and walked away, crossing her own as she studied the maroon rug covering the dark stone floor.

Thorin watched her. "I know this may not be a good time to remind you, but you did send him away, ' _ibin_ ," he said after a moment.

Cheyanne turned around immediately, her eyes flashing and betraying her anger. "I know that," she growled. "And I regret it."

Thorin was taken aback. He knew Cheyanne had a fiery temper, but he hadn't expected so quick of a flip between upset and angry. In order to soothe her, he stepped backwards, to give her more space.

"If you like, we can send him a message and ask him to return," he said.

Cheyanne's anger faded from her eyes, and she bowed her head. "No," she replied quietly. "He wouldn't come back, and I hate proving him right."

Thorin didn't know if it was appropriate to laugh, and so he didn't. Instead, he walked towards the table they had eaten at and picked up the tray that held their dishes. He went to the door of their bedchamber and set the tray down outside before closing the door again.

He then turned to face Cheyanne. The conversation they were about to have was going to require time and privacy.

"Come sit," he offered, pulling out the chair she had vacated at the table. Cheyanne studied him as he sat down in his own chair, and then her shoulders slumped and she moved to sit down as well.

When she was settled, Thorin folded his hands on the table top.

"Do you regret choosing to stay here in Erebor?" He didn't see a simpler, gentler way of asking the question, and so he decided to just be upfront about it. It was a concern he had had since Bilbo had left with Gandalf four months before, and one that had grown worse every time Cheyanne had mentioned her cousin's name and he'd seen longing in her eyes.

Now, however, there was only a spark of fear as she quickly reached across the table and took his hands in hers. "Of course not!" she told him. "I would have never left you."

"I don't understand, then, why you fret over Bilbo as much as you do," Thorin replied, watching her expression for a change. "If you hadn't wanted him to leave, you should not have asked him too."

"I know," Cheyanne said, her eyes drifting downwards to their clasped hands. "When I asked him to leave four months ago, I had thought that it was because he needed to go home. You know that throughout the journey he missed Bag End very much. I wanted to give him his wish. But now… now I'm feeling selfish, because he hadn't wanted to go, and I'm realizing that I hadn't wanted him to go, either."

Thorin continued to study her, waiting. He knew that she had more to say, and he did not want to interrupt.

Cheyanne was quiet for a long moment, and then she licked her lips and shook her head. "I'm just… I'm confused, Thorin, and I'm torn. I… I'm wondering why I bothered sending him home since I want him here so badly, but I'm also wondering why I'm being an absolute arse about it when I was so adamant he go home in the first place." She met Thorin's eyes. "I don't know why I changed my mind."

Thorin waited a moment to be sure she was done before speaking. "May I give you my opinion?" Cheyanne nodded. "I believe that you changed your mind because you realized too late just how much you need your cousin."

He watched as something holding Cheyanne's tears at bay shattered, and a few stray droplets escaped her eyes. She quickly bowed her head to hide them, but Thorin had already seen, and he used one hand to brush them away before holding her chin in his fingers to make her look at him.

"I say that we send Bilbo an invitation as soon as possible. If he chooses to come, we will know that he wants to be with you here in Erebor, and you may ask him to stay. If he does not come, then you will stop fretting over your choice to send him home, because you will know for certain he is happier in the Shire."

Cheyanne closed her eyes for a moment, and Thorin waited, willing to give her as much time as she needed to consider the plan.

Cheyanne knew it was the best choice. It wouldn't be fair to Bilbo if she outright demanded he return to Erebor, especially since he had probably just gotten back to the Shire. If they sent him an invitation to the wedding, however, Bilbo would have a choice, and she wouldn't feel awful about forcing him into something else.

She opened her eyes, nodding, and sniffed. "That's a good idea," she said to Thorin, who smiled.

"We'll send him one in the morning."

Cheyanne studied the table as Thorin stood up to prepare for bed. As he reemerged from the closet, she looked at him.

"Do you think Balin will be angry Bilbo isn't receiving an official stationary-based invitation?" she asked.

Thorin chuckled. "I don't think Balin will mind if Bilbo's invitation is different from the rest, especially since it's urgent he gets it immediately."

Cheyanne actually managed a grin at that, and she nodded, content. "All right, just making sure."

* * *

 **Ah, so good. I missed these two.**

 **Anyhow, new Question of the Day?**

 **Question of the Day: Who's your favorite _The Office_ character? I just started watching the show today, and I'm digging Jim and Pam already. **


	4. Dwarves is Company

The week passed, filled with Khuzdul lessons for Cheyanne, and important meetings with the whole Company for Thorin as the day of the arrival of the Dwarves of Erebor approached rapidly.

When it was upon them, everyone was prepared.

Everyone aside from Cheyanne, at least.

She awoke the morning of the arrival and decided she was not going to be getting out of bed. She and Thorin had been separated into different bedchambers the night before, and she had had a restless night, not used to sleeping alone.

When she finally did fall asleep, she wasn't aware that the sun had been rising. And when she awoke, it was with a headache and to a very, very loud banging on her chamber door.

"Cheyanne?" It was Dwalin calling for her, so at least she was all right to yell and curse at him if it came to that. "It's time to wake up, lass. The Dwarves will be arriving soon; we can see them from the front gates."

Cheyanne groaned and rolled over in her bed, covering her head with her pillow. "Tell them their future queen is not feeling well!" she shouted to Dwalin. The sound of her own voice felt like a loud bell was being rung inside her head, and she hated it.

"What?" Dwalin burst through the door and frowned at what he saw. Cheyanne was curled up into a ball, her head shoved under her pillow, the room dark aside from the light that the open chamber door let it. She hadn't been stirring at all, like Thorin had told him she would be, and Dwalin knew he was in for some trouble.

"Cheyanne, you can't stay hidden away up here," he told her, going over to where she lay on the bed. "You have to be presented to Dis first, and then to everyone."

"I don't wanna." The Hobbit's voice was muffled. "My head hurts, and I feel like I only slept for five minutes."

She had actually slept for a good three hours, but she didn't know that, and she didn't feel like explaining why she had slept so little to Dwalin.

The Dwarf studied the lump in the white sheets that represented Cheyanne, and then he sighed to himself. "You're lucky Balin sent me, rather than coming up here himself," he informed her. "He would not have any of this dilly-dallying."

Cheyanne peered out from under the pillow, a small hint of humor in her eyes. "Did you just say 'dilly-dallying'?"

"Yes," Dwalin replied, crossing his arms. "If I go get ye some tea to help with your headache, will ye be up when I come back?"

Cheyanne let out an exasperated sigh. "I suppose," she said, "since it's so urgent you went as far as to say 'dilly-dallying'." To prove she was making an attempt, she threw the pillow off of her head. "Go get me my tea."

"Fine," Dwalin said, shuffling back towards the door. "Up when I come back, though. Remember." He left the bedchamber, closing the door behind him, and Cheyanne huffed as she forced herself to sit up. Her head was pounding something fierce, and she pushed her palm against her forehead, groaning.

"By the Valar, I feel as though I spent the whole night drinking," she muttered to herself.

When Dwalin returned with the tea, he found she had moved to sit at the small table in one corner of the parlor section of her apartment, meaning she had at least emerged from the bedchamber. She was still in her sleeping gown, however, and her hair was a mess.

Dwalin set the tray he was carrying down on the table in front of her, and he sat down in the other chair at the table, watching as she pulled the tray towards her and went through her odd routine of putting honey into it by first pouring it on a spoon, and then stirring it into the tea.

"Do you know what you're going to wear?" he asked after a moment.

"Nope."

"Or how you're going to make your hair look decent?"

"Fili said he would try to braid it for me, since he's used to braiding short lengths of hair."

Dwalin felt a small weight lift off his chest at that. At least she had planned somehow.

"If I fetch Fili, will you try to find something decent to wear?" he asked her as she took a sip of her tea.

"Sure," Cheyanne answered. "I can't promise how much luck I will have - I don't really look good in anything fancy, Dwalin, and I don't own anything fancy because of that fact."

"You don't need to look fancy, lass," Dwalin said in exasperation. "You just need to look like you made an effort. Can ye do that? For Thorin?"

Hearing Thorin's name, Cheyanne lost the indifferent demeanor she had been trying to hold to show just how much she did not want to be presented to the arriving Dwarves. She bowed her head, studying the golden tea in her cup.

"I'll try," she murmured.

Dwalin kept his grin to himself. Should of known. Mention Thorin and she'll do anything, so long as it's for him.

"All right," he said, standing. "I'm going to go find Fili. You finish your tea, and get dressed. We'll take this one step at a time."

He exited Cheyanne's apartment and headed for the stairs that would take him down into the main hall of Erebor. He knew Fili was already awake - they all were, now that Cheyanne had risen. He just wasn't sure where the blond prince was.

The first Dwarf he ran into was Bofur.

"Have you seen Fili?" Dwalin queried, pausing beside where Bofur was shuffling through papers.

"Nope," Bofur replied, not looking up from his task. "I imagine he's wherever Thorin is, though."

"Fine," Dwalin said. "Do you know where Thorin is, then?"

"Uh-uh."

Dwalin sighed, and watched as Bofur began to shuffle through the stack of papers again. "What are those?" he finally asked.

"Possible weddin' songs," Bofur responded, looking up at him at last. "I'm trying to decide whether I want ta sing one of these, or jus' write my own."

Dwalin furrowed his brows, and then shook his head. "Good luck with that," he said, moving on past him. He continued around the main hall to the stairs that would take him into the throne hall. He prepared himself for the trek before mounting the stairs and starting up them.

The main hall disappeared behind him as he walked up the stairs to the throne. As he got closer to the top, he could hear voices, and he was relieved when he heard Fili's among them.

"You do not look prepared to be meeting your people, Uncle," the blond prince was saying as Dwalin reached the top of the stairs, puffing a bit.

"I'm fine," Thorin responded, though Dwalin could tell even from his position that he was not fine. Even his voice gave him away, if his appearance didn't.

Which, as Dwalin got closer to the throne, he saw that Thorin's appearance did give away just how unprepared Thorin was.

His usually straight posture was bent over slightly as he paced back and forth before the throne. His hair, usually braided before he made an appearance whatsoever, was disheveled. When he saw Dwalin coming towards the throne, he glanced up, and Dwalin frowned when he saw the worried crease in Thorin's forehead.

Things were definitely not looking as good as they had thought they would.

"What's wrong?" Dwalin asked as he stopped beside Fili and Kili, who were both watching their uncle, clearly fretful over the state he was in.

"Nothing," Thorin said vacantly. "I'm fine." He stopped pacing and faced Dwalin. "Did you wake Cheyanne?"

"I did," Dwalin replied, and then he nudged Fili. "She said you were going to do her hair."

"Right," Fili said, keeping his eyes on Thorin. "I'll go do that, unless you need me for something, Uncle?"

"Go help Cheyanne," Thorin ordered, the more appropriate commanding tone creeping in his voice. "Make sure she's ready."

Fili dipped his head and started up the staircase behind the throne, which would take him to Cheyanne's room quicker than one of the stairwells in the main hall. As his brother disappeared up the stairs, Kili stepped towards Thorin and spoke in his ear.

Thorin glanced at him, and seemed to consider whatever Kili had asked him. After a moment, he nodded.

"But not until I tell you," he said sternly.

Kili nodded. "Right. It would be inappropriate if I wasn't here when Mother and the others arrived." He looked down at his clothing. "I should probably actually get ready. Be back shortly."

The other prince went up the other staircase behind the throne. Thorin let out a sigh and ran his hand down his face.

"Didn't we already talk about this?" Dwalin asked him.

Thorin lowered his hand and looked over at the Dwarf. "What do you mean?"

"I know that you're worrying about presenting Cheyanne, again," Dwalin explained, crossing his arms. "I already told ye that everything is going to be just fine in that regard."

"She is not ready," Thorin said, his voice quiet.

"Do you know that for certain?"

"Of course not, but we both think it." Thorin walked past him towards the main stairwell, walking back and forth across the pathway leading from the throne and to it. "No one knows that she is a Hobbit aside from Dis."

"What does it matter?" Dwalin queried, watching him pace.

"It is going to be a surprise," Thorin answered, stopping at the edge of the walkway. He stared down into the gap between the walkway and the stone wall, where darkness claimed the air before the floor was visible. "Since Smaug's attack, our people do not take surprises well."

He was right about that, Dwalin had to admit. The Dwarves of Erebor had lived in constant worry after Smaug had taken the mountain, afraid that more would be taken from them, or that something else would happen that would ruin their lives further. Thorin, his father, and his grandfather had all done their best to keep the Dwarves together, and in high-spirits. The Dwarves, being a strong people, had eventually accepted that may never settle, and had followed their King all over Middle-earth.

Now, however, here was their chance to return home, and settle under the grandson of the king that had held them together. Dwalin understood why Thorin feared the surprise that the Dwarves would suffer when they learned that their Queen-to-be was not of their race; the Dwarves had almost fallen apart once before from a surprise. Who's to say that they wouldn't do it again?

Thorin needed the reassurance that they wouldn't from someone, however, and Dwalin decided that he could give it, even if he was uncertain of how true it was himself.

"When Smaug attacked, we got through it," he said to Thorin. "This surprise hardly falls on the same scale. I doubt it will have the same effect on everyone that the attack did."

"They do not trust anyone who is not a Dwarf," Thorin murmured. "Dis said as much in her letters, and I've seen it firsthand. The way we were treated on our travels…" He trailed off, uncharacteristic for Thorin, and Dwalin reached over to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"An army made of Elves, men, and Dwarves saved Erebor from an army of Orcs," he said. "A Hobbit was the sole reason a war did not break out amongst those three peoples before the Orcs attacked."

"The wrong Hobbit."

"The Hobbit that will be their Queen saved their King from death," Dwalin reminded him. He waited for Thorin to look upwards, and when he did, Dwalin grinned. "If there is anyone who is not a Dwarf that our people can trust, it is the Hobbit that saved their King."

Something that was similar to a smile reached Thorin's face, and he nodded. "Thank you, old friend," he said to Dwalin. "I do not know what I would do if you weren't here to reassure me."

"I feel like we have this discussion at least once a week," Dwalin answered, which earned a chuckle from Thorin.

"We do," he said. "I need constant reassurance, I suppose."

Kili came hopping back down the stairs, then, dressed in a white shirt and black breeches. He was pulling on a red jacket, and he paused in front of the two standing beside the throne as he buttoned it up.

"Fili said that he should be done with Cheyanne in less than ten minutes," he informed them.

"Good," Thorin said, glancing at Dwalin. "The Dwarves will be here within the hour."

"So soon?" Dwalin let out a breath. Thank Mahal Cheyanne had woken willingly when she did.

"Balin is walking around with Nori and Dori, making sure that all of the living quarters are acceptable to live in," Thorin went on. "We've been cleaning and preparing for weeks, however, even with the weddings plans. Everything should be ready."

Dwalin wondered if Thorin was saying these things to reassure himself, or just to inform Dwalin of what he already knew.

The older Dwarf decided not to comment on it, since Thorin had so much on his mind already. He did not need to be further agitated by a snide comment from Dwalin.

Thankfully, the arrival of Fili and Cheyanne a few minutes later seemed to relax Thorin. He managed a smile as Cheyanne walked down the stairs behind Fili, and then came over to him. Fili had managed to pull sections of hair on either side of her head into braids, and join them together behind her head. She had put on a pale blue skirt, and paired it with a white shirt. She looked just fine, Dwalin thought to himself.

Thorin took her hand and pulled her closer to him. He leaned down and spoke in her ear so that the others would not hear. "How did you sleep?"

Cheyanne glanced Thorin over, determining whether or not he would be able to hear the truthful answer without worrying himself more than necessary. She decided that, based on the circles beneath his own eyes, that it was not a good idea to tell him that she had barely slept at all.

So, she merely grinned. "Just fine, though I was lonely."

Thankfully, Thorin chuckled. "I felt similar," he told her, and then he fixed her with a more serious look. "Are you ready?"

"Well…" Cheyanne glanced at Dwalin, who raised his eyebrows, and shook his head. She swallowed, and looked at Thorin again. "Sure." She studied him for a moment, frowning. "Why didn't you braid your hair?"

"I thought you might like to do it," Thorin answered, reaching into the pocket on the deep blue coat he wore. He produced two silver hair cuffs, lined with sapphires, and offered them to her.

Cheyanne sighed outwardly. "You know I can't braid very well," she murmured, glancing around at the others, almost as though she was embarrassed for admitting this out loud.

Any other day, and Cheyanne's learning attempts at braids would have suited Thorin just fine, but perhaps it was best if he didn't appear to his people with practice braids in his hair.

So, he nodded. "Hold these," he said, handing her the cuffs. Cheyanne did as she was asked, and she watched in mild fascination as Thorin braided two lengths of his hair into three strand braids. She could put on the cuffs, at least, which is was she did. When their work was done, Thorin's hair looked much more regal than it had, and Cheyanne smiled.

"You look like a king," she told Thorin.

"Good," he answered, glancing at Dwalin. "Something tells me I didn't before."

"Fili put the cuff you gave me on my braid," Cheyanne said, turning around so that he could see the ruby lined cuff he had first braided her hair with. Something, however, nagged at him as he looked at it hanging from her braid, and Thorin looked at his older nephew. Fili scratched at the back of his neck and glanced away from him.

Thorin's eyes darkened a bit, but before he could say anything, Balin appeared from the stairs at the base of the throne, puffing.

"The Dwarves are approaching the gate," he said when he reached them. "Dis is riding towards us with an escort, so that she may meet Cheyanne."

Cheyanne subconsciously squeezed Thorin's hand. He glanced down at her, and saw she had turned pale. Dark circles beneath her eyes that he had not noticed before now stood out rather obviously. She had not slept at all, Thorin saw. That wasn't good.

"Cheyanne…"

"I'm fine," she managed, her voice hoarse.

The Dwarves that were with the two of them before the throne glanced around at one another, uncertain. They all shared the same thought: _Maybe Cheyanne is not ready for this._

Thorin seemed to catch on to the looks that were being exchanged, and he frowned. If the Dwarves did not believe in Cheyanne, how was she supposed to believe in herself?

In order to remove their attention from his future Queen, he cleared his throat. Balin looked at him. "Shall we meet Dis at the doors?" he asked his advisor.

Balin seemed to shake his head to himself, as though he were regaining his composure. "Good idea," he said, and then waved his hand. "Come."

Cheyanne stuck close to Thorin's side as the party began to make their way down the stairs to get to the main hall of Erebor. Thorin wished that he could reassure her, somehow, but he did not know a way to do so without worrying her further, or making the others question her even more. All he could do was keep his hand around hers, and hope that she knew he believed in her.

When the reached the main hall, they found that the other members of the Company were already there, and standing near the doors of Erebor. The few soldiers that Dain had left behind to keep the mountain safe were all standing at attention on either side of the giant doors, and several were waiting to open them. Cheyanne and Thorin took positions at the end of the line of soldiers, and the other Company members followed their lead.

Cheyanne let out a slow breath. She would be fine. Speak when spoken too, and don't say anything stupid. That was it, right?

Dwalin reached over from where he stood beside her, and gave the hand that wasn't in Thorin's a reassuring squeeze of his own. Cheyanne blinked up at him, and Dwalin smiled, winking.

For whatever reason, that made Cheyanne feel a bit more better than she thought it would, and she managed a weak grin back, just as there was the sound of horns from outside the doors.

Cheyanne turned to them, shoulders rising and falling, as the soldiers began to pull the doors open. Thorin's hand tightened around hers, and she glanced upwards at him. His face was set, however, and she could not tell what he was thinking.

The soldiers finished opening the door, and she looked back at them. Standing before them, dressed in a regal, floor-length red dress and a black traveling cloak, was whom could only be the Lady Dis. She walked forward down the line of Dwarven soldiers, her head high. Her dark, thick hair was braided, and Cheyanne could see it swinging from side to side as Dis walked towards them.

And, of course, she had a thin layer of facial hair coating her chin and cheeks, and it was the same color as her hair. Thorin had told Cheyanne to suspect as much, but Cheyanne hadn't expected it to be… beautiful. For whatever reason, she decided that Dis wouldn't have looked right without the beard, and she realized that she had been around Dwarves for enough time that she was simply accustomed to each one having facial hair.

As Dis got closer, Cheyanne saw that her eyes were blue, and just as piercing as Thorin's.

Great.

When she reached them, Dis stopped several feet away and looked each member of the Company over. One eyebrow was quirked, and she gave each Dwarf a lingering glance, her eyes barely skimming over Cheyanne before moving on. After a moment, she lost the stern expression, and broke out into laughter.

"Look at the lot of you!" she exclaimed, holding out her hands. "Standing there like I'm some goddess you're afraid of. Come here and give me hugs!"

Fili and Kili immediately raced towards their mother, and she hugged both of her sons to her, chuckling.

"Oh, my boys," she sighed after a moment, her eyes closing. "I missed you both so very much."

Cheyanne watched this, her heart aching. She knew that the reunion of a mother and her children was a special one, and she did not feel right to bear witness to it. She wanted to flee the main hall entirely, to be frank, but Thorin's hand around hers kept her rooted in place.

When both of her sons had received proper affection, Dis allowed them to pull out of her arms, and she moved forward, towards Thorin and Cheyanne.

"Brother," she greeted, meeting Thorin's eyes. She was several inches shorter than he was, although still a good inch or two taller than Cheyanne herself. Still, she appeared to be just as tall as Thorin, with the way she held herself. Cheyanne wanted to step back and bow to her.

Thorin offered his sister a smile. "It is good to see you, Sister," he said.

"Too proud to give me a hug?" Dis queried. Cheyanne did not miss the teasing in her voice, however, and she relaxed a bit.

Thorin's smile widened, and he let go of Cheyanne's hand to offer Dis a hug. She returned it, chuckling lightly.

"Thank Durin you're all right," she said to him, just loud enough for Cheyanne to hear. "I feared for you, many a times."

"Nothing to worry about," Thorin informed her, pulling back. "I was in good company."

"Yes," Did agreed, looking around at the other Dwarves. "I can see that." She gave Dwalin a grin. "Did he give you much trouble?"

"Only near the end," Dwalin responded, grinning back. "It was too much for me, but Cheyanne handled it quite well."

Dis's eyes finally turned to her, and Cheyanne bowed her head. "The Hobbit," the Dwarrowdam mused. "Interesting little thing."

Cheyanne glanced upwards at her. "It's good to meet you, Lady Dis," she said quietly.

Dis merely quirked an eyebrow, and then she looked at Thorin again. "I did not tell anyone about her, as per your request," she informed him. "However, it may have been wise to mention it prior to making our return journey."

"It's best if they hear my decision from me, so that they can make their own based on what I tell them," Thorin replied simply.

"Hm." Dis didn't appear convinced. "We shall see, I suppose." She glanced around the main hall for a moment. "How do you plan on addressing them? There are many."

"I imagined so, and we prepared for this," Thorin told her. He gestured with his head for her to follow, and then he began to lead Cheyanne towards a set of stairs beside the doors of Erebor. Dis came after them both, and Cheyanne glanced over her shoulder at the Dwarrowdam. Her eyes were glancing about once more, and Cheyanne saw that they were glittering. Perhaps it was beginning to settle within her that she was home at last.

The stairs took the three of them up and around to a different door, smaller and less grand than those of the mountain itself. Cheyanne looked at Thorin in wonder. She hadn't been told anything about a new addition, only that the doors were being repaired.

Thorin didn't respond to her questioning look, and he instead opened the door. A gust of cold air met them, and Cheyanne inhaled the freshness of it. Thorin led her through the door, and she found herself standing on a balcony, which, when looked over, proved to be directly above the main doors, and looked out over the Dwarves that had traveled to Erebor with Dis.

And there were a lot.

A crowd that reached beyond the walkway up to the doors was standing below them, and a wave of sound reached them, all of the Dwarves talking at once. There were so many, and Cheyanne felt her knees shake a bit at the sight of them all. This was an entire kingdom, finally home.

Thorin turned and whispered into her ear: "Remain here until I ask you to join us." Cheyanne simply nodded, and Thorin looked at Dis. "Do you think they'll be accepting?"

"Only one way to find out," Dis answered, giving Cheyanne another glance. Thorin exhaled.

"Right. Let's begin, then."

Cheyanne watched as he stepped up to the edge of the balcony and rested his hands on the wall there. Dis stepped up beside him.

"Dwarves of Erebor!" Thorin's voice rose and echoed off of the giant Dwarven statues on either side of them, and the sound from below fell into silence at once as the Dwarves looked up at Thorin. This was their future king, and had been their acting leader for ages. His voice automatically called their attention to him.

Thorin smiled. "Welcome home!"

A cheer rose up from the crowd from below. Cheyanne smiled despite herself.

"It is my honor to welcome you back to Erebor," Thorin continued. "The Company of Thorin Oakenshield fought hard to regain it. As you can see, our efforts were not in vain." More cheering, and this time, Thorin cut it short by holding up his hand. "Of course, as many of you know, winning back the mountain was not easy. Battles, both internal and external, were won and lost. And the Company was not the only participant in those battles. The Battle of Fives Armies, which occurred only four months ago, was fought alongside Elves and men, to whom many Dwarves owe their lives. The fire drake who claimed Erebor was shot down by a man. As your future king, if you will have me, I ask that you remember that we received much help in our efforts to win back our home, and that you remain grateful to all those who assisted us."

The Dwarves respond to this request by their king enthusiastically. Why wouldn't they, of course? They had their mountain back, and that was what mattered.

Now, however, came the difficult part.

Thorin glanced first at Dis, who nodded her consent, and then back at Cheyanne, who had pushed herself against the rear wall of the balcony, her arms crossed against the frigid wind.

Thorin turned back to his people. "Now, I have something to share with you all, that you have not heard about prior." The Dwarves looked up at him in anticipation. "Before the battle that ultimately won back the mountain, I suffered from an illness that made me question several things, including the loyalty of my kin."

This confession brought up worried murmurs from the Dwarves of Erebor, and Thorin allowed them to occur. He had considered the many outcomes to this announcement, and a bout of nervous murmuring had been one of the easier results to handle.

When silence had fallen over his people again, Thorin went on. "If it hadn't been for a strange sort of loyalty from those in the Company, I would have been lost, and Erebor may have been lost as well." Thorin closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure, which he could feel was beginning to slip as memories of those dark days before the Battle of the Five Armies returned.

Dis rested a hand on his arm to get him back, and Thorin gave her a grateful look before turning back to his people.

"What I am going to tell you now may be a shock, and many of you may think I am playing some sort of joke. I assure you that I am not joking, and I know that what I say is the truth." Thorin glanced back at Cheyanne once more, and she blinked at him. Thorin smiled, and looked at his people. "One of those who helped me find myself the most is whom I've chosen to be my queen."

He didn't expect there to be cheers, but there were. He supposed that, even if they did not know who said Queen was going to be, they were pleased that Thorin had found love, or at least someone whom he wanted to spend his life with.

He didn't know how long those cheers would last when they saw Cheyanne.

He waved his hand, and Cheyanne stepped forward to join he and Dis at the wall. The Dwarves of Erebor fell silent at once as they gazed upwards at her. Cheyanne gulped.

Thorin gestured to her. "This is Cheyanne Baggins, a Halfling from the Shire," he told his people. He gave her a loving look, his eyes glittering. "She is my One, and she reminded me of who I was, and what my purpose was, when all others in the Company were afraid to. She saved my life in the midst of battle, and it almost cost her her own." Thorin looked at the Dwarves of Erebor again. "She also saved the lives of your two princes, my sister's sons. We owe Cheyanne Baggins much, and I ask that you accept her as your future Queen Under the Mountain, if I am to be your King."

Cheyanne could almost feel the stunned silence that rose up to them from the gathered Dwarves below. She swallowed thickly, and glanced at Thorin. He looked back, curious.

"Can I say something to them?" she asked, whispering.

"Of course," he answered after a moment.

Cheyanne nodded, and looked down at the Dwarves, whom she and Thorin hoped would accept her as one of their future rulers. Cheyanne knew that this was her chance to convince them on her own, and she closed her eyes for a moment, planning what to say in her head before she actually voiced it.

"Dwarves of Erebor," she said after a moment, surprised to hear her own voice was almost as loud as Thorin's. They glanced around at once another in amazement as well, and Cheyanne felt a strange sense of amusement.

 _The Halfling speaks! What a sensation._

"I feel as though I owe you all some explanation," she continued after a moment. "Your King embellished some of the details a bit. I'm the cousin of the Hobbit whom retrieved the Arkenstone from the mountain, right under the nose of the dragon that stole it from you. I came along as a sort of… extra hand, if it was needed. I did not think that I would end the journey betrothed to your King, and yet here we are." Cheyanne swallowed again. "I ask that you consider for a moment all that you've gone through, and what Thorin has done for you as well. I ask that you… let him do this one thing for himself, so that he can be happy, since he has tried his hardest to make all of you happy, given the circumstances you were under."

She glanced at Thorin, and saw that he was watching her, his eyes shining again. She offered him a weak smile, and then looked down at the Dwarves again. "I know I don't have a right to ask this of any of you. None of you know who I am, and you have no reason to want to know me. But I would like you to know that I love Thorin with all my heart, and that means I love all of you as well. So, please, consider what Thorin has asked of you, and if you like, what I've asked of you as well. Thank you."

Cheyanne retreated away from the wall. Thorin looked down at his people. None of them spoke, for a very long moment, and Cheyanne closed her eyes, fearing for the worst."

After a period of dreadful silence, however, one lone voice rose up from the Dwarves.

"Long live the King and Queen Under the Mountain!"

Cheyanne's eyes opened. The voice continued to chant the same statement over and over. After a moment, another joined it, and then a third. Slowly, the single voiced chant rose to a dull roar, and then a deafening one, all saying the same thing.

"Long live the King and Queen Under the Mountain!"

Thorin closed his eyes in relief, and he felt a small hand slide into his own. He opened his eyes again, and looked down at Cheyanne, who was peering up at him, her eyes bright.

"Does this mean they've accepted me?" she asked above the chanting.

"It seems that way," Dis replied before Thorin could. Both he and Cheyanne looked at the Dwarrowdam, and she dipped her head to them. "Congratulations."

She walked away from them back towards the door that entered into the mountain. "Will someone show me to my chambers if I ask?" she queried.

"Of course. Dwalin will do it," Thorin responded, pulling Cheyanne against him.

Dis nodded, and then disappeared through the door. Thorin turned back to his people, who were beginning to quiet again.

"We have prepared the living quarters to the best of our abilities!" he called over the remaining cheers. "Again, I welcome you home!"

More cheers, and Thorin looked down at his Hobbit. She was smiling at him, practically glowing.

"That wasn't so hard," she said, and Thorin chuckled back.

"No," he agreed, hugging her. "I suppose it wasn't."


	5. A Short Cut to Bad Decisions

**I don't know if it's fair that Cheyanne gets 5,000 word chapters, and Bilbo only gets 2,500...**

 **Oh well. Bilbo got a freakin' movie and a published book. His time has passed.**

* * *

 **obsessed reader: You're the first reviewer! Yay! And it was a nice review! Double yay! I love you. You made my week.**

* * *

"Huh." Bilbo cleared his throat as he studied the raven sitting on top of his mailbox. The bird merely flapped its wings in response. Bilbo approached the gate cautiously, switching the small basket he was carrying to his other hand so that he could accept the letter the raven had in its beak.

On the front, in gold ink, was his name and his address.

"Well." Bilbo tilted his head and looked at the raven, who was watching the Hobbit through beady eyes. "What?" he asked it.

Once again, the raven flapped its wings and tilted its own head.

Bilbo looked back down at the letter in his hand. Sighing, he set his basket of groceries down on the ground and flipped the letter over, snapping the royal blue seal on the back. The letter unfolded, and he let out another sigh when read the words, in the same gold ink as on the front.

It was an invitation to Cheyanne and Thorin's wedding.

"Great," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he folded the letter up again and pushed it into a coat pocket. "Send me home and then send me an invitation. Very funny, Chey."

The raven squawked to get his attention, and Bilbo glared in the direction of his mailbox. The raven was watching him closely.

"You want a response, don't you?" Bilbo asked, his annoyance beginning to fade as he realized it was pointless. "Well, even if I decided to go back to Erebor, I wouldn't get there in time for the wedding."

The raven cocked its head to the other side, and Bilbo looked away. "Don't give me that," he muttered to the bird. "I know what you're doing."

The bird was saying, _If you responded with a yes, Cheyanne and Thorin would hold off on the wedding until you arrived._

And the bird was right.

Bilbo let out a breath and pulled the letter out of his pocket again, eyeing the golden ink. He shook his head and started to slide it away, but hesitated, looking at the raven.

"I could say I'm coming, couldn't I?" he asked it. "I could say I'm coming, and they would wait until I got there." He closed his eyes and let out a breath. "If I go back… I won't be coming home."

 _Why would you tempt me this way, Chey?_

Did… did she want him to come to Erebor to stay? Is that why she invited him back through the invitation? It was possible, wasn't it? He wouldn't have a sure answer until he got there, and, either way, he'd be staying. Cheyanne would learn to like him there, even if she didn't want him there already.

 _Why would she invite me if she didn't want me there?_

He glanced at the raven again and coughed once. "Wait here," he said. "I'll be back."

He picked up his groceries in one hand and shuffled up to his front door, pushing it open with the hand holding onto the letter. After depositing his basket on the dining room table, he went into his study (a new addition after his return to Bag End) and sat down at his desk, putting the letter down on the desk in front of him.

He stared at it for a moment before reaching for a blank piece of parchment and a quill. He dipped it in plain black ink before addressing both Cheyanne and Thorin on one side of the parchment. He blew on the ink to help it dry before flipping the parchment over.

 _To Cheyanne and Thorin…_

He paused, his quill hovering over the parchment.

Yes or no?

 _No._

He couldn't go back to Erebor. If… if he got there, and decided to stay, he would miss the Shire. He would, and he realized it, sitting here at his desk in Bag End. This was his home. How many times had he thought that to himself in the past month? And he was just coming to terms with it now.

Maybe the invitation was a good thing for him, after all.

Bilbo swallowed and wrote out his decline to attending the royal wedding. He put his quill down and stared at his words for a moment longer before bending down and blowing the ink dry. With that, he folded the letter over, making sure to center Cheyanne and Thorin's names on the opposite side, and then sealed it shut with his own red wax.

As he waited for it to dry, Bilbo went to one of his small windows and peered outside. The raven was still sitting on top of his mailbox, waiting.

Bilbo shook his head and returned to his desk, testing the wax with one finger. It was dry enough, he supposed.

He picked up the response and returned outside, walking down to his gate. The raven looked at him as he approached, and Bilbo offered the bird his letter. The raven took it after a moment, and, with a final flap of its wings, flew off.

Bilbo watched it disappear, and then he retreated back into Bag End.

 _Well_ , he thought to himself as he went to start supper, _that's that_.

He ate his supper, and he slept.

The next morning, while he was sitting on the bench outside Bag End and smoking his pipe, as usual, an unusual visit put a halt in his daily activities.

He spotted the grey hat before he spotted the wizard, but when Gandalf strolled up the path, Bilbo leapt to his feet in excitement.

"Gandalf!" he said, grinning widely. The wizard stopped outside the gate, and Bilbo went down to meet him, laughing. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling open the gate.

"Can't a friend pay another friend a visit?" Gandalf queried, chuckling as Bilbo hugged him. When the Hobbit pulled back, Gandalf met his eye. "That, and I made a promise that I would keep an eye on you."

Bilbo frowned at this, and he took another step backwards. "Did you get an invitation, too?"

"An invitation?"

Bilbo let out a breath. "I'm going to assume that's a no," he mumbled.

"An invitation to the wedding?" Gandalf queried. Bilbo nodded, and the wizard sighed, placing a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, ushering him back up to the bench. There, they both sat down, and Gandalf turned expectantly towards the Hobbit, waiting.

"She must have sent it to me to see if I would go back," Bilbo started after a moment. "If you have not yet gotten one, then… she sent mine early. It wasn't on any special stationery or anything. She wanted to give me time."

"And what did you decide?" Gandalf queried.

Bilbo gave him a look. "What do you think?"

"Any particular reason?"

The Hobbit blinked at the wizard. "I… I've just come home. Do you think I want to walk another four months back to Erebor, just to be there for a wedding? If Cheyanne had wanted me at the wedding, she could have asked me to stay until it occurred, and _then_ sent me home."

"So, perhaps, Cheyanne does not just want you there for the wedding," Gandalf suggested after a moment. Bilbo stared at him, and the wizard shrugged. "Perhaps she's decided she wants you to stay there with her, be an advisor or something of the sort."

Bilbo seemed to collapse into himself, and he leaned back against the bench, gazing blankly forward. "Do you really think that's what she wants?" he whispered at last.

Gandalf merely offered him another shrug. "I cannot say, but it is possible. We both know that Cheyanne isn't one to admit she's wrong in a straightforward manner. Perhaps the invitation to the wedding was meant more as an invitation for you to return to Erebor entirely. By declining, she will know that you do not want to return to Erebor to stay."

Bilbo's eyes closed, and he let out a breath. "Did I make the right decision, then?"

"Well, that depends on whether or not you want to return to Erebor to stay."

Bilbo was silent for another minute, and then his eyes opened. He studied the clear blue sky as he responded: "I don't know, Gandalf." The wizard raised his eyebrow in question. "I miss Cheyanne, and Thorin, and all the rest, and, for a while, I thought that maybe I could get used to living in Erebor with all of them. But then Cheyanne told me to go back to the Shire, and I let myself believe that was the best decision for me to make." He scoffed. "I suppose I was wrong to do that."

"So you do want to return?" Gandalf queried.

Bilbo threw up his hands in a defeated gesture. "I don't know what I want, Gandalf," he said, exasperated. "Bag End and the Shire are very important to me, but Cheyanne is my cousin, and she's important to me, too." Bilbo sighed to himself. "I just need more time."

"Then you should take it," Gandalf said, though the wizard was disapproving on the inside. He knew that Bilbo needed to return to Erebor, and that he would never be satisfied with the Shire again. The Hobbit had had a taste of adventure, and his home wouldn't offer one to him. Erebor, however, would.

"It's it is your choice, ultimately," Gandalf told him. "When you decide, I will be more than happy to accompany you back to Erebor."

"And if I choose to stay here?" Bilbo asked, glancing up at the wizard as he stood.

Gandalf spread his hands. "Then nothing will change."

For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow of disappointment cross over Bilbo's face, but it faded almost immediately as the Hobbit nodded.

"Would you like some tea, Gandalf?" Bilbo suggested, standing up as well.

"That would be nice," Gandalf replied. Bilbo nodded, and headed inside Bag End. Gandalf glanced around for a moment, exhaling. "Hobbits."

"Gandalf?" Bilbo poked his head out the door, and gave the wizard a curious look. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing at all, Master Baggins," Gandalf responded, turning around to face the door.

"Oh," Bilbo said. "Come on in, then."

Gandalf nodded, and followed the Hobbit into his home, making sure to duck to avoid the chandelier hanging in the main hall. Bilbo noticed this, and chuckled.

"Good memory."

"Thank you," Gandalf said, pulling off his hat. He followed Bilbo into the Hobbit-sized kitchen and sat down in a Hobbit-sized chair at the Hobbit-sized table. Bilbo came over to him after a moment, holding a Hobbit-sized tray, which carried Hobbit-sized teacups and plates and biscuits on it.

Bilbo frowned as he poured tea in Gandalf's cup from a Hobbit-sized teapot. "You look frustrated, Gandalf," the Hobbit said. "Is it because of me?"

"Not at all, Bilbo," Gandalf answered, "and I am not frustrated."

Bilbo did not look convinced, and Gandalf didn't feel convinced, either. He was frustrated, and it was with Bilbo. He wanted the Hobbit to see what he himself saw. Bilbo was restless. Gandalf saw it in the way the Hobbit poured the tea, and in the way his eyes kept going to the window that showed the walk outside Bag End. Gandalf couldn't understand it.

Clearly, Bilbo hadn't settled back into his home again, and the wizard didn't know if he would ever, especially now. Bilbo was a different Hobbit than the one he had been when he had left Bag End almost two years before. Bilbo had said as much to Gandalf before their arrival in the Shire.

"Bilbo," Gandalf began as the Hobbit took his own seat at the table, "how do you feel?"

Bilbo chuckled as he poured some honey onto a spoon and began to swirl it into his tea. "What an odd question, especially after the conversation we had outside." The Hobbit considered it for a moment, setting his spoon aside. "I suppose I'm just… waiting."

"Waiting?" Gandalf queried, tilting his head.

Bilbo nodded. "Waiting for the homeliness to settle back into me," he said. "You know, the realization that I'm finally home, and that the adventure is over."

"Do you truly believe you will ever feel that way?"

Bilbo's eyebrows drew together, and he coughed. "Try one of the biscuits," he suggested, pushing the plate towards Gandalf. "I baked them yesterday, and they'll go to waste if someone doesn't eat them."

Gandalf took a biscuit, but he knew he had planted the appropriate seed of doubt in Bilbo's head. As he took a bite, he smiled to himself.

 _Soon enough_ , he thought, _Bilbo will tell me he wants to go back to Erebor_.

The subject, however, was dropped altogether as tea continued on, and when the two of them were done, Gandalf didn't linger long enough for it to rise again. Bilbo walked him to the front door of Bag End.

"How long are you going to be in the Shire?" the Hobbit asked him.

Gandalf pondered the question for a moment. "I do not know," he said at last. "Not long, though. I must tend to something in Rivendell, and I believe Lord Elrond wants me there as soon as possible."

"So you made a side-stop in the Shire?" Bilbo gave him an incredulous look. "Where were you in Middle-earth that made that possible?"

Gandalf merely gave him a placating smile and tipped his hat to the Hobbit. "I will return before long."

"All right," Bilbo sighed. "It was good seeing you, Gandalf."

"Farewell, Master Baggins." Gandalf turned and walked away from him down to the path outside of Bag End's gate. Bilbo gazed after him until Gandalf's gray hat had disappeared, and then the Hobbit went back into his home.

As he stood before the door, he glanced around the entrance hall of Bag End. His shoulders rose and fell, and he walked into the living room that he had sat in directly after fainting the night thirteen Dwarves, a wizard, and a Hobbit he hadn't known was his cousin entered his home.

He smiled to himself at the memory, and sank down into his armchair with a heavy sigh.

Could he really leave his home, for good this time? He had wanted to return to the Shire so badly during the journey to Erebor. He spoke of it so often that, at one point, Dwalin had silenced him by shoving a piece of dry bread into his mouth, simply because the Dwarf was fed up with hearing Bilbo complain.

Cheyanne had laughed so hard when that happened.

Bilbo's head fell back against his armchair, and he gazed up at the ceiling. He did miss her, and all the Dwarves that had grown to be his friends. He wanted to see them again, even though it hadn't been very long at all since he had been with them last.

Four, almost five months. That wasn't very long at all.

I can wait another three or so, can't I? That isn't impossible.

So why did it give him an ache when he considered it?

The Hobbit exhaled heavily and hid his face in his hands.

* * *

 **Question of the Day: Should I read a _new_ Stephen King novel, or reread an old one? **


	6. A Friendship Unmasked

**Another chapter greater than 5,000 for Cheyanne. Poor Bilbo.**

* * *

The days that followed the return of the Dwarves of Erebor included a lot of running around and greeting of said Dwarves for Cheyanne and Thorin. Balin had said it was good for them to hold a meet and greet of sorts. Cheyanne didn't really understand where he had come up with such a name, but it was a good way to describe what they were doing.

Cheyanne and Thorin would stand in the throne hall for several hours a day, just waiting for Dwarves to come and say hello. Thorin already knew many of those that came to see them, and Cheyanne decided that there was no way she was going to be able to remember them all.

She did, however, put away a few of the interactions to remember for later, because they were the more interesting ones.

One that she found to be her favorite was when a young (by Dwarven standards) couple came to them. The Dwarrowdam was holding a tiny bundle in her arms, and when she'd pulled back the blanket, Cheyanne and Thorin had been greeted by a baby that blinked up at them with dark eyes.

"Oh!" Cheyanne gasped, grinning. "He's beautiful!"

The Dwarrowdam holding the babe beamed at her. "Thank you for saying so, my lady," she said. "His birth was a difficult one, as we were traveling and it was winter."

"I'm glad to see that you are both healthy, then," Cheyanne responded, stepped away. The Dwarrowdam turned to Thorin.

"We would ask you to bless him, King Thorin," her companion said. The young Dwarf blinked when Thorin glanced at him. "W-we would ask that you give your opinion on the name we chose for him."

"Which was?" Thorin queried.

"Frerin," the Dwarf answered.

Cheyanne glanced at Thorin, and saw a strange light had crept into his eyes. Frerin was the name of the brother he had lost long ago, in the Battle of Anzanulbizar. No doubt, he was remembering the loss now, and doing his best to get past the dark memory of having to burn all of the bodies of the dead, his brother included.

"It's a wonderful name," Cheyanne said to the couple, who were watching Thorin as well. "It represents much."

"We thought so as well," the Dwarrowdam agreed.

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. He smiled at the couple. "It's a very good choice," he said to them, and then he placed a gentle hand on Frerin's head and began to speak quietly to the babe in Khuzdul. Cheyanne, who had been learning much of the Dwarven language, was certain it was a blessing for a long life, and one of prosperity.

When Thorin stepped backwards, both of the Dwarves exchanged a happy look. The male bowed to Thorin and Cheyanne, and the Dwarrowdam dipped into a slight curtsy.

"Thank you much, my King, my lady," she said. Her companion placed a hand on her lower back, and the couple turned and walked down the grand staircase that led up to the throne.

Cheyanne smiled up at Thorin, who raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?" she asked him instead of answering.

Thorin let out a breath. "Fine, _bunnanunê_ ," he replied. "The reminder of my brother should not affect me in such a way."

"And why not?" Cheyanne questioned, frowning. "You loved him, yes? You are expected to miss him."

"A king who shows emotion is a weak king," Thorin sighed under his breath.

Cheyanne gaped at him. "Who in Nessa's name told you that malarkey?"

Thorin looked down at her. "My grandfather."

Cheyanne blinked, and turned forward again. "I see."

The rest of the 'meet and greet', as Balin put it, went on similarly, either Dwarves coming to receive blessings, to thank Thorin directly, to thank Cheyanne directly, and other such things. It was an experience, and one that Balin told Cheyanne would be important for later on, when she and Thorin attended court.

"What in the world is 'court'?" she asked the older Dwarf as the two of them walked down one of the living quarter hallways. They passed Dwarven families that were cleaning out the apartments, and putting their belongings that they had brought with them from the Blue Mountains into place. The hall was filled with dust, but, thankfully, the neat little shaft-windows in the mountain walls were opened, and the dust flew out them to the outside.

Balin exhaled. "Court is one of the many things Thorin will be doing as King Under the Mountain. Dwarves, men, and even Elves will come to court, and state their business. It could be anything they want to discuss with the King, whether it's a suggestion for trade, or a request for funds to do something. As Queen, you will attend court as well, but not as often."

"Why?"

"Because, those that come to court will want to talk with Thorin, typically," Balin explained to her. "You will only be there to know what's happening in and around the kingdom, when Thorin deems it necessary that you join him."

They reached the end of the living quarter hallway and began to descend a set of stairs, down into the main hall of Erebor. Dwalin would be waiting for them there, to take over as Cheyanne's escort through the mountain, as Balin had some coronation business to attend to.

"Have you been working on your Khuzdul?" Balin asked her.

"Yes, Balin."

"Did you do that task I asked of you?"

Cheyanne rolled her eyes. "I came up with your sweet poetic translation, yes."

"Well, then, let's hear it."

Cheyanne stopped walking and turned to face the Dwarf. "I must thank you for only giving me the one line, because it was a pain to try and come up with the translation based on the information you've taught me, but what I came up with was _'Shukûl labam, ra niyumul, zudnu danakh udlag undu ibrizbakn haft._ '"

"Almost perfect," Balin said, and Cheyanne sighed in frustration. "The correct plural for shores is ' _shakâl_ '. But the rest was great."

"What does that line refer to, Balin?" Cheyanne asked.

Balin smiled at her. "What lies beyond."

"Oh."

The two continued on down the stairs, and immediately, Dwalin bustled over to them.

"Ready?" he asked Cheyanne.

"I suppose," she answered, looking at Balin. "You need me to write invitations, yes?"

Balin nodded. "I've left a list in your apartment with the names of those you can write them too. The rest are up to me."

"How many can there be?" Cheyanne asked, frowning.

Balin merely winked, and then turned, heading for a different set of stairs. Cheyanne sighed to herself and looked up at Dwalin.

"Off to my apartment we go, I suppose."

Dwalin nodded, and together they walked towards the stairs that would take them to the throne hall, and the only staircase that reached the hall where Cheyanne's apartment was. As they walked, Dwarves that were traversing the main hall paused to bow to Cheyanne, who gave them all nods in return.

Dwalin was chuckling to himself by the time they reached the stairs, and she glared at him. "What is so funny?"

"You," Dwalin said simply, walking up the stairs ahead of her. Cheyanne had to jog a bit to keep up.

"I'm just trying to act regal," she muttered.

"Yes, I can tell," Dwalin answered. "I think you're doing fine."

"So don't laugh at me," Cheyanne grumbled unhappily. They reached the stop of the stairs and headed down the walkway towards the throne. As they neared, Cheyanne saw that Fili and Thorin were standing before it, talking to one another in low voices.

She put out a hand to stop Dwalin from walking, and cocked her head in the direction of the other two Dwarves.

She caught the very end of a statement from Thorin, "... any longer."

"It is not my fault that you have no time to braid her hair instead," Fili retorted. "It means nothing, Uncle."

"Perhaps not to her, but to us?" Thorin demanded, and Cheyanne saw his eyes harden. "What does it mean to you, Fili?"

"Nothing, like I said!"

Dwalin raised an eyebrow at Cheyanne, who lifted her shoulders. They were clearly talking about her, but she had immediately decided it was an idiotic conversation. One that she wanted to end, immediately.

"Fili, and Thorin, two of my favorite Dwarves," she said, continuing on down the walkway towards them, with Dwalin behind her.

The two glanced in her direction, and then Thorin gave Fili one final hard look before he walked towards Cheyanne to meet her halfway. She was surprised when he closed an arm around her and pressed a kiss against her mouth. Since the return of the Dwarves, showings of affection such as that one had been avoided by the both of them.

Cheyanne gave Thorin a curious look when he pulled away from her.

"Care to explain why you were yelling at Fili about braids?" she queried pleasantly.

"No," Thorin answered shortly, "and I had best be getting to that meeting with Balin." He gave her a second kiss, and then nodded to Dwalin before walking past them towards the stairs. When Cheyanne turned away to look for Fili, the prince had already gone.

She rolled her eyes. "Dwarves," she mumbled, and Dwalin gave her a reproachful look. She responded with a sweet grin. "But not you, Dwalin."

"I would hope not," Dwalin muttered, glancing off into a different direction. "We should get to those invitations."

"I suppose we should," Cheyanne agreed, and followed Dwalin towards the staircase to the left of the throne. The walk up to her apartment was silent, and when they reached it, the young Dwarrowdam that Thorin had hired to be Cheyanne's lady's maid was waiting for them.

"H'lo, my lady," the Dwarrowdam greeted, pulling open the door for the both of them.

"Hi, Fala," Cheyanne responded. "Did Balin stop by earlier?"

"He did," Fala said, and she gestured towards the desk on the left wall of the parlor. "He left a list behind, with names on it, and a stack of stationery."

"It's for the invitations," Cheyanne explained to her maid. "Would you mind terribly if I asked you to fetch Dwalin and I something to eat from the kitchens?"

"Not at all, it's my job." Fala dipped into a curtsy, and then exited the apartment. Dwalin closed the door behind her as Cheyanne walked over to her desk. Indeed, there was a stack of stationery waiting for her, as well as a rolled up piece of parchment that she assumed was the list of names.

She picked it up, prepared to unroll it herself, but the parchment did the job for her, unraveling and rolling away from her off the desk and to Dwalin's feet. He bent down and picked up the end that had reached him while Cheyanne looked helplessly at the five-foot long list.

"Why me?" she asked him after a moment, and Dwalin chuckled. He walked over to the desk, rolling the parchment back up as he went. "I don't suppose you'll want to help write the invitations?" Cheyanne queried hopefully as he set the scroll back down.

"Not in the slightest, lass," Dwalin answered, "but I'll seal them for you."

Cheyanne huffed as she sat down in her chair. "Sure, take the easy job," she mumbled, reaching for the quill that was waiting for her next to a jar of ink.

The two of them set to work, Cheyanne drafting out the same invitation to the wedding on the stationery that she and Thorin (and Balin) had chosen, and Dwalin sealed each one with some melted ink and the royal stamp of the house of Durin.

After a time, when the biscuits and cookies that Fala had brought up from the kitchen had run out, the two of them were only a quarter of the way through the list, and Cheyanne's hand was cramping something awful.

"I need a break," she declared, putting the quill down in the inkwell before massaging the palm of her right hand with her left. "Valar, who knew there would be so many?"

"Invitations for all the Dwarves in Erebor, and those living in Dale, and even a few invitations for high class livers in the Iron Hills," Dwalin explained, finishing his last seal before setting the letter off to the side with the others.

"When I said I would do the invitations, I thought I was picking the easy task," Cheyanne admitted, and Dwalin chuckled just as the door of the apartment opened, and Thorin came in. Cheyanne glared at him as he walked over to where she sat. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"Do I have to knock at your door?" Thorin asked in response.

"I could have been doing something naughty," Cheyanne told him.

"Anything you do that's naughty is something I want to see," Thorin replied, smiling a bit.

Dwalin threw up his hands and rose from his chair. "All right, I'm leavin'. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon." He hurriedly walked out of the apartment, and Thorin chuckled when Cheyanne gave him a look.

"My plan worked."

Cheyanne laughed as well, and gestured to the invitations. "Help me seal these, then, since you got rid of my other assistant."

Thorin did as she asked, taking the seat Dwalin had vacated and accepting the invitation she gave him. Fala came out of the bedchamber, then, and saw the two sitting at the desk. She quickly swept into a curtsy at the sight of her future king, but Thorin did not notice. Cheyanne had already claimed his full attention by telling him about the Khuzdul translation task Balin had given her.

When she was finished telling him about it, Thorin was smiling. "I haven't heard of that poem before," he commented.

"Me either," Cheyanne said, frowning. "I think Balin made it up off the top of his head so I couldn't go looking for it in any of those books in the library." She glanced at him as she finished up a fourth invitation. "When are we going to look into cleaning that out?" she asked.

"As soon as this coronation and wedding business is settled, and we're officially King and Queen Under the Mountain," Thorin answered, pressing the seal stamp into the warm wax he had just poured onto an invitation. "We'll be able to really get restoration underway then."

"Ah."

Thorin set the invitation he had just finished off to the side, and then nodded to the one she was working on. "Who's that too?"

Cheyanne grimaced a bit at the question, and she slid it towards him. Thorin read the name of who the invitation was addressed to, and he frowned almost immediately. "No. I refuse to send him an invitation."

"You must," Cheyanne insisted. "He may have done something bad before, many things, to be fair, but he did help us win the Battle of the Five Armies." She gave Thorin a reproachful look. "What happened to 'Remembering the help given by those who are not Dwarves?', or whatever it was that you said."

Thorin slid the invitation back over to her, and Cheyanne went on writing. He watched her for a moment, and then exhaled.

"You only see the good in people."

Cheyanne immediately looked up from her task with a frown. "I do not!" she exclaimed.

"You do," Thorin insisted. "Even after that Elf kept us hostage in his damn prison, you're inviting him to the wedding."

"His name is on the list, and it's common courtesy between kings," Cheyanne said plainly.

"You don't know anything about common courtesies between kings." Thorin reached over and took the quill she was using out of her hands and held it away from her. "He doesn't need to come."

"Thorin, he helped us win the battle," Cheyanne repeated, crossing her arms. "This could be a new era of friendship between Dwarves and Elves."

Thorin snorted, but returned the quill after a moment. "There will never be friendship between Dwarves and Elves."

"Sure, you say that now, but when you and Thranduil both get piss-drunk at the wedding and start telling jokes, a beautiful friendship will blossom," Cheyanne promised, completing the invitation. She then held the quill out to him. "Would you like to sign it, or shall I?"

Thorin grumbled out a reply. He took the quill from her hand and signed his own name before he put it back in the inkwell. He then leaned over and kissed Cheyanne briefly before relaxing back in his chair.

"Good," Cheyanne said, rolling up the letter before handing it to him. "Seal it." Thorin was frowning, however, and she furrowed her brow as she looked at him. "What is it?"

"You did not sleep at all last night, did you?" Thorin asked her, setting Thranduil's invitation down on the desk.

Cheyanne turned her eyes away from him and studied her hands, suddenly extremely interested in the ring on the left. "Of course I did," she answered vacantly.

"Cheyanne."

She let out a breath. The day had been going so well, too. "It's hard to sleep when I can't close my eyes without immediately feeling like…" She trailed off and shook her head. "I keep having that dream."

Thorin knew the dream she meant. She'd had it more than once, though the one he remembered clearest was when they had been in Lake-town, and she had come to his bedroom in the Master's house, seeking comfort and finding him instead. It was one of the only times Thorin felt he'd given Cheyanne his affection on the journey, and, once again, he regretted not giving her more.

With a sigh, he rose from his own chair and walked around to the back of hers. He placed his hands on her shoulders, resting his lips against the top of her head.

"How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

"It's pretty awful," she admitted with a weak chuckle, turning to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, _'ibin_ ," Thorin said. "I wish I could help."

She managed a smile. "I'm sure I will be fine once we are sleeping in the same space again."

Thorin had to return the grin. "I'm certain of it as well."

"Thorin?" Balin's voice could be heard from outside the door, and Thorin called for his entrance. The Dwarf shuffled into the room, his face paling at the minuscule height of the stack of sealed invitations on the desk before Cheyanne. He quickly shook off the disgusted look on his face and bowed to them. "The Lady Dis has requested Cheyanne's presence in her chambers for tea."

"Alone?" Cheyanne had paled, now. She looked up nervously at Thorin, who rubbed her shoulders reassuringly.

"If my sister has invited you to tea, you are blessed," he said with a gentle smile. "Rarely does she seek company."

Balin gave Thorin a reproachful look, to which Thorin frowned and shook his head in warning. He needed to convince Cheyanne to visit with Dis, and Balin was not helping.

Balin cleared his throat. "If you like, I will accompany you to her chambers," he said to Cheyanne.

Cheyanne continued to look at Thorin, and he placed another kiss on her head. "She will not harm you, _bunnanunê_ ," he said with a chuckle. "She probably just wants to discuss something about your duties when you become queen."

"Still…" Cheyanne mumbled, all the same rising from her chair and walking to where Balin waited by the open door. The two of them exited the chamber, leaving Thorin to laugh quietly to himself as he sat down and began to shuffle through the invitations, deciding which could be sent immediately, and which could be put off for a while. After all… it would be no harm to him if Thranduil's invitation arrived too late for the Elf king to get to the wedding.

In the halls of Erebor, Balin and Cheyanne walked silently beside one another, headed towards Dis's chambers. Balin seemed to sense Cheyanne's discomfort, and he reached a tentative hand towards her, placing it on her shoulder.

"I don't want to do this." His touch seemed to unlock her words, and Cheyanne froze, turning to face him. "I can't do it. I can't. Balin…"

Balin let out a breath. "Cheyanne, listen closely." She lifted her gaze from where it had drifted to the floor and met his. "Dis is one of the most charitable and fierce Dwarrowdams I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She will come to love you, even if you do not feel she will, simply because she loves Thorin, and wants him to be happy. Do you want to make Thorin happy?"

"More than anything," Cheyanne replied without hesitation.

"Then have tea with Dis. Be in her company, listen to her advice. She may very well be the one to teach you how to be a good queen, if you let her."

Cheyanne's quick breathing had slowed, slightly, and she looked less terrified than she had the moment before. She nodded once, twice.

"All right," she said, her voice breaking a bit. "I'll have tea with her."

"Good," Balin said, smiling. "Come on."

The two continued on towards Dis's chambers. When they reached it, Cheyanne let out a breath and straightened her skirt. "I can do this," she whispered to herself.

"You can," Balin agreed, raising a fist to knock on Dis's door. It opened a moment later, one of Dis's chamber maids pulling it back.

"Lady Cheyanne," the maid said, curtsying. "My lady has been expecting you."

Balin glanced at Cheyanne, and saw the grimace she was trying to make a grin. "Well, I'm here," she managed.

Balin gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then parted, heading away down the hall. Cheyanne longed to go after him, but she couldn't. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and went into Dis's chamber.

The lady was sitting with her back to the door, in a beautifully crafted oaken chair before a giant stone fireplace. She rose at Cheyanne's entrance, however, and turned to face her. Once again, Cheyanne was astounded by the Dwarrowdam's beauty. She lowered herself into a curtsy, her knees quaking beneath her skirt, as Dis approached her and took one hand in both of hers.

They were large, calloused, not unlike Thorin's. Cheyanne knew that Dis was well versed in all the same weapons as her brother was, and she managed not the flinch as she raised her eyes to meet the blue ones that looked back at her.

"I hope I do not frighten you as my sons seem to believe I do," Dis said gently, which stunned Cheyanne to no end. "I do not want you to fear me, sweet Halfling. You are to be my sister, and I aim for you to see me as one."

Cheyanne didn't know what to say. As she struggled for words, Dis backed away and gestured to the tea that was set out on the table between her chair and the one next to it. "Tea?"

Slowly, Cheyanne made her way over to the other chair and sank down into it. She watched as Dis picked up the teapot, much to the disgruntlement of her maid, who remained nearby. "My lady -"

"I can pour my own tea, thank you," Dis retorted, smiling at Cheyanne to take the edge off of her tone. "Do you like honey?"

"I can do it," Cheyanne said softly.

Dis watched curiously as Cheyanne first poured some honey onto a spoon and then swirled the spoon around in her silver cup. "Interesting way of doing that," the Dwarrowdam said as Cheyanne pulled the spoon out of the cup and set it down.

"We Hobbits have interesting ways of doing a lot of things," Cheyanne replied, receiving a smile.

"Like claiming the hearts of Dwarves?" Cheyanne looked down at her now-golden tea, and Dis sighed. "That was not meant as a taunt, Cheyanne. Please, do not think of it as one."

"I wasn't," Cheyanne answered, her voice low. "I just… I know a lot of the Dwarves would like it if Thorin was marrying a Dwarrowdam instead, and I feel sorry for disappointing them."

"Who have you disappointed?" Dis asked.

Cheyanne offered her a shrug. "I've heard whispers, from those who I haven't met in the throne hall. They don't think I can rule them, or produce an heir for Thorin. I don't blame them."

Dis was frowning, now. "That's preposterous!" she decided. "Not produce an heir… not rule them… we'll just have to prove all the naysayers wrong, won't we, dear?"

Cheyanne looked up from her tea in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm going to make you the best queen Erebor has ever seen!" Dis told her. "It will take a lot of work, but I feel you are up to the task." Dis turned in her chair to face Cheyanne fully, fixing her with an intense stare. "Are you?"

"Of course," Cheyanne answered instantly. "Anything for Thorin."

Dis's frown disappeared at once, and she threw back her head in hearty laughter. When she was finished with her outburst, she leaned forward and chuckled a few more times before wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"Mahal, you two really are lovesick for one another, aren't you?" Dis sighed. She turned to Cheyanne and gave her a teasing grin. "May I offer you my first advice?"

"Please," Cheyanne said, setting her cup on the table and leaning towards the Dwarrowdam.

"Do not let Thorin rule your life," Dis said.

Cheyanne was taken aback. "Isn't that… what a woman does?" she finally asked.

"No!" Cheyanne scooted her chair back, and Dis let out a breath. "I apologize. That was sudden. I meant to say that no, that is not how it works, especially when you will be his queen." Cheyanne tilted her head in confusion, and Dis set down her own teacup.

"I'm going to frank with you, sweet Halfling," the lady began. "Thorin does not want to marry someone who will submit to him. I'm assuming you didn't submit whatsoever during the journey, right?"

Cheyanne had to smile. "No, I suppose I didn't," she answered.

"Then don't when you're married!" Dis shook her head. "You are Thorin's One, Cheyanne, and you are his One for a reason. Do not let marriage ruin that for either of you."

"So… are you saying that I shouldn't let him… tell me what to do?"

"Exactly!" Dis exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the arm of her chair. "Thorin doesn't want a submissive chicken warming his bed. He wants someone who isn't afraid to tell him no, to take command! You must be able to do that, to have won him over."

"I thought a Dwarf's One was based purely on fate," Cheyanne said.

Dis rolled her eyes. "Oh, dear, you have so much to learn," the Dwarrowdam sighed. "Have no fear; I will teach you everything you need to know."

"Starting with?" Cheyanne was eager now; Dis saw as much by the way her eyes were flashing with something other than the firelight. The Dwarrowdam had to smile; Thorin had chosen well.

"Well… let's see…"

Fili stood with his ear pressed to his mother's chamber door, listening as Lady Dis and Cheyanne both burst out in laughter. He smiled to himself at the sound, pleased that they were getting along.

He felt a finger tap him on the shoulder, and he quickly spun around, finding himself face to face with his uncle.

"Thorin!"

"What are you doing?" the soon-to-be king demanded of him.

"I was just… I was just listening!" Fili said. "Cheyanne went in there looking terrified for her life, and I wanted to make sure things went okay!" Thorin didn't look convinced, and so Fili gestured to the door. "Have a listen, and tell me what you think."

Thorin did no such thing. Instead, he came closer to Fili and leaned down into his nephew's face. "Do not spy on your mother and Cheyanne," he growled. "Do you understand?"

"It was for Cheyanne's good," Fili attempted, struggling to sound as firm as Thorin did.

"Was it? Or was it for your own pleasure?" Thorin asked him, his voice rising.

"Thorin, please -"

"Thorin!" His uncle was pulled away from him by Cheyanne, who got between the two and pushed Thorin backwards. "What in the Valar are you doing?" she demanded, rising up on her toes to be in his face.

"He was listening to your conversation," Thorin answered, waving his hand at Fili.

"Who cares?" Cheyanne was fuming. "Is he a spy?"

Silently, Thorin shook his head, still glaring at Fili from over Cheyanne's head.

"No, I didn't think so," the Hobbit said. She lowered herself back down to her normal height and glared up at him. "Don't threaten him like that, do you understand?"

"But he -"

"He did nothing wrong!"

Fili spared a glance towards his mother, who was leaning in the doorway of her bedchamber, watching the exchange between Hobbit and Dwarf. Lady Dis had a small smirk of satisfaction on her face, and it grew into a grin when Cheyanne spat a curse at Thorin in Khuzdul. Fili's own eyes went wide at the colorful language. All that for him?

" _Khuzd allâkhul_ ," Cheyanne finished, and with that, turned away from her soon-to-be husband and approached Fili. "Are you all right?" she asked him.

"Fine," Fili said, managing a grin of his own. "Thanks for that."

"He was being rude," Cheyanne said simply, sending a glare over her shoulder at Thorin, who was still standing with his back to the wall, mouth agape. She turned back to Fili. "Of course, you really should not be listening outside a female's chamber, Fee."

"I know," Fili said, bowing his head. "I apologize for that. I was just making sure everything was going all right." He turned towards Dis. "I apologize to you, too, mother."

"Fine, fine," Dis said dismissively, waving her hand.

Fili smiled at that. "She always treats me this way," he commented to Cheyanne. "I'll take my leave now, however." He bowed to them all and turned heel, quickly walking out of sight.

When he was gone, Cheyanne turned fully to look at Thorin, who was staring at her. Sighing to herself, she glanced at Dis, who merely gave her a "Nice job" gesture and disappeared into her chambers again.

"Thorin -"

"What makes you think you can speak to me in such a manner?" the Dwarf asked sharply, cutting her off.

Cheyanne crossed her arms. "I thought you would be impressed with me," she said simply. "I've been working hard on my Khuzdul."

"Not the important bits, it seems," Thorin commented dryly.

Cheyanne glared at him. "I wasn't going to let you treat your nephew in that manner," she said sternly. "That was unfair of you."

"He shouldn't have been listening at the door."

"You're right, he shouldn't have," Cheyanne agreed, "but did you need to get so angry with him?"

Thorin's shoulders rose and fell, and he lowered his gaze, at last. "No," he admitted. "I suppose I didn't."

"And I didn't need to pull out my Khuzdul cursing," Cheyanne said, a grin beginning to spread. Thorin raised his eyes again, and she held out her arms. "I'm sorry."

"As am I," Thorin said quietly. He let out a sigh. "I really am."

Cheyanne stepped towards him, and Thorin wrapped her into an embrace, chuckling to himself as he thought over her cursing. "You called me "stupid Dwarf" at the end."

"A sign of affection," Cheyanne said simply.

"I'm sure," Thorin said with a chuckle. He pushed her outwards at arm's length and studied her. "What if I say this: _Zu kiduzhu_? Can you translate it?"

"You are golden," Cheyanne said at once. "Easy."

Thorin smiled. "All right. How about… _Zâyungi zu yothur nidif gulûb ublûr aglâbizd_?"

Cheyanne's grin fell. "I haven't gotten that good," she said.

Thorin tapped her on the nose. "Do you know the Seven Blessings?"

"Yes. Do you need me to say them for you?" Thorin shook his head. "Didn't think so. That would be wrong, doing so before the wedding." She beamed up at him. "Are you going to tell me what you said?"

Thorin merely pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You'll find out soon enough on your own."

"That's not fair," Cheyanne said with a pout.

"No, what wasn't fair was you cursing at me the way you did," Thorin retorted. Cheyanne scowled, and he kissed it away, drawing giggles out of her instead. When he pulled away, she was smiling again.

" _Men lananubukhs menu_ ," she said.

" _Amralizi ya_ ," Thorin returned.

"Can I assume -"

"It means "I love you, too", _bunnanunê_."

"Right," Cheyanne decided quickly. "I knew that."

"I'm sure you did," Thorin said with a subtle roll of his eyes.


	7. The Old Library

**To be honest, I don't know if any of the Dwarven history that follows is true or not.**

* * *

A week later, Cheyanne and Dis were sitting in the drawing room of Cheyanne's bridal chamber, a big old tome from Erebor's library laid out in front of her on the desk. Dis watched the Hobbit scan the page one more time before straightening up and letting out a breath.

"Do you need a break?"

"No," Cheyanne said, her eyes closed. Dis could almost see the information she had learned moving around in her head, forming itself into phrases that she could remember more easily. "I have it this time, I'm certain."

Dis settled back in her chair. "Then begin."

Cheyanne's eyes opened, and she straightened her back before beginning to site what they had just spent an hour talking about: "Of the Seven Dwarf Fathers, Durin the Deathless was the one who carved out the future of all Dwarves. He was the one who built the great hall of Khazad-dûm in the First Age, forming the trades of the Dwarves in its great forges and mines. So great was Durin that he never truly died, being reborn seven times through his descendents.

"In the Second Age, the third incarnation of Durin was given the seventh and most powerful of the Dwarven Rings, yet did not fall to its corrupting power through the design of Aulë, the Maker. While the ring did not have its intended effect, the might of the Dwarves was beginning to fade.

"In the year 1980 of the Third Age, a Balrog of Morgoth was discovered deep within the mines of Khazad-dûm, which killed Durin VI, the final incarnation of Durin the Deathlesss. After his death, his son Nain I took their people from Khazad-dûm and -"

She cut off when Dis shook her head. "Nain was also killed by the Balrog. It was his son, Thrain I, who went out to find the kingdom of Erebor."

Cheyanne muttered out her favorite curse in Khuzdul and slid down in her chair, groaning. "I was so close," she muttered.

"It's fine," Dis assured. "It's hard to get all those names straight. You did well."

Cheyanne gave her a grateful look and blew away the strand of hair that had fluttered into her eyes. Three days before the wedding, and she was still having trouble separating her Nain's and Thrain's. It was embarrassing. How was she supposed to rule these people if she didn't even know their history?

Dis sensed her disgruntlement and reached over, placing a comforting hand on Cheyanne's knee. "We can take a break from that and talk about something else," she offered.

"Thank you," Cheyanne said with a relieved sigh. Dis stood and offered her hand. Cheyanne took it, and the Dwarrowdam pulled her to her feet. "What -?"

"Your curtsies are atrocious, I'm afraid to say," Dis explained with a small grin. "We need to fix them." Cheyanne nodded, knowing fully well that they weren't the best, and Dis cleared her throat. "Shoulders back, stomach in."

Cheyanne did as Dis commanded, pushing her shoulders back and sucking in her belly. Dis watched and then nodded. "Grab your skirt with both hands," she instructed, and when Cheyanne did so, she went on, "Don't do anything but bend your knees. You must keep your back straight the entire time, or it looks sloppy."

Cheyanne took her first attempt, and went stumbling to the floor. Dis started laughing at once. "Oh, I should have had you cross your ankles first," she managed, gasping. "Sorry."

"Rude," Cheyanne muttered, struggling to regain her feet.

Dis offered her hand to help her, but when Cheyanne took it, she pulled Dis down onto the ground beside her. Dis landed with an "oomph", and Cheyanne fell onto her back in laughter.

"I should have expected that," Dis allowed, watching the Hobbit wriggle about in glee. She frowned. "But still."

"This definitely looks like a lesson." Thorin had walked into the room, an amused expression on his face. Cheyanne sat up and grinned at him.

"I'm learning."

"Are you?"

"Yes! Do you want to listen to the Dwarven history I learned about earlier?" Cheyanne held out her hand, and Thorin helped her up before they both turned to help Dis. She was already on her feet however, and was brushing off her skirt.

"I think we're done for the day," she said. "Good work, Cheyanne."

"Thank you for working with me," Cheyanne returned, lowering herself into a perfect curtsy. Dis had to chuckle, and she shook her head at her brother before exiting the drawing room of Cheyanne's bridal chambers.

"That was beautiful," Thorin informed Cheyanne.

"Thank you," she said, straightening up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why do all the Dwarves of old have the same name?"

Thorin merely chuckled at the question and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "A mystery not even I know the answer too." He frowned as he remembered the reason he had come looking for her. "Your Elf friend is here with your dress."

Cheyanne's eyes brightened. "Where?" she asked, tugging on Thorin's hand.

Thorin chuckled and told her to wait. He then disappeared outside and came back a few minutes later, Hammaril and her two human helpers in tow.

" _Mellon_!" Hammaril said happily, pushing the big white box she was carrying at Thorin before encompassing Cheyanne in a hug. Thorin let out an annoyed huff, and Hammaril _tsked_ , turning to him and reclaiming the box. "That is not a noise a happy groom should be making so close to the wedding."

Thorin merely gave the Elf a look, and then turned to Cheyanne. "You'll be all right alone, won't you?"

Cheyanne nodded, and he cast a glance at the three seamstresses before making his exit. He found Dis standing outside, her arms crossed before her.

"Yes?" Thorin asked, sighing.

"You sound so disappointed," his sister commented with a small smile. "Why do you assume I want to talk to you about something bad?"

"You have your arms crossed."

Dis rolled her eyes and uncrossed them. "I merely wish to say that your Hobbit is very smart, and eager to learn all she can."

"I knew both of those things already," Thorin said, tilting his head. "Is there more?"

"You never told me what it was like."

"What?"

"When you saw her," Dis explained. "I told you what it was like when I met my One, and you told me you would say what it felt like when you met yours." Thorin shook his head, and Dis reached out a hand, placing it on his arm. "What was it like, big brother?"

"Must we do this here?" Thorin asked her.

"I just want to make sure she's the right Hobbit," Dis said, "though after spending this past week with her, I don't doubt it."

"Can't you just take my word?"

"Is it really that hard to explain?"

"Yes," Thorin said. Dis lifted her eyebrow, and he bowed his head. "I can't explain it. She… she's everything."

He glanced up at Dis again, and saw she was grinning. "I think that sums it up," she said.

"May I attend to my more important duties now, little sister?" Thorin queried, pulling his arm away and walking away down the hall. Dis watched him go before shaking her head and chuckling.

About an hour later, the Dwarrowdam returned to Cheyanne's apartment to find the Hobbit standing before a big box, which Dis assumed carried Cheyanne's wedding dress.

"May I see it?" she asked. Cheyanne glanced over her shoulder, and grinned before shaking her head.

"No, not until the wedding."

Dis crossed her arms in amusement. "Typically, that is only a rule for the groom."

"I know," Cheyanne answered, bending down to pick up the box. She grunted as she straightened up and lugged it off in the direction of her closet. "It's just what I want, all right?"

"Fine, fine," Dis said, chuckling. She turned towards Cheyanne's desk and studied the pile of books that were sitting on top of it. "We're done with most of these books - do you want me to have someone take them back to the library?"

Cheyanne reappeared from the closet, straightening her skirt. "No, I can do it," she said. "I like going down to the library, even though it's a mess." She crossed to the desk and picked up three of the heavy books of Dwarven history. "Did you come here for something?"

"No," Dis answered. "I only wanted to see how you were faring after your fitting." She took the three books from Cheyanne, who picked up the other two. "Come on."

The two exited Cheyanne's bridal apartment and headed through Erebor towards the library. They passed many Dwarves as they went, and they received respectful bows or curtsies as they passed. The two responded in kind with nods.

When the reached the library, Dis suggested that they put the books down on a table and leave them there. "There's no point in putting them back where we found them, since Balin has a whole new sorting system in mind," she explained.

Cheyanne did as she was told, and then glanced around. The giant room, filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves was burnt to a crisp on one half, but pure as daylight on the other. The contrast was stunning, in a way.

"I think I'll stay down here for a while," she said to Dis, going over to the nearest unburnt bookshelf. "I'd like to see what I can find."

Dis smiled. "As you wish. I will leave you to your reading."

The Dwarrowdam exited the library, leaving the Hobbit alone with the thing she knew best - books. Cheyanne poked around in the uninjured part of the library until she found a book that wasn't in Khuzdul, and one that sounded interesting. She then carried it over to a puffy, blue velvet armchair and curled up in it, propping the book open on the arm.

She was reading peacefully to herself when a voice echoed around the library.

"Used to be a grand place, this library." Cheyanne looked up, and saw Balin was standing in the doorway, gazing around the room. "Most of my time was spent in here, when Thror didn't want my help with something or other."

He stepped into the library and bowed to her. Cheyanne put the book to the side and rose to return the greeting the form of a curtsy.

"Can I help you with something, Balin?" she asked him as he walked further into the room.

The Dwarf nodded. "You can, actually. I've realized that we've been spending so much time dealing with Dwarven customs that I've barely given Hobbit customs any thought," he told her. Cheyanne's eyes grew slightly at his words, and Balin raised an eyebrow. "If Thorin were wedding a Dwarf, things would be different, but you are not a Dwarf, Lady Baggins."

"Does that matter?" she asked. "This isn't my wedding, and you've been planning it for months already."

"It may not be yours alone, but you are half of the party," Balin chuckled. "I wanted to know if there was anything missing from the wedding plans that would exist in a Hobbit wedding, and if you wanted them to be a part of this one."

Cheyanne smiled and looked down at the floor. "Well, there is one thing," she allowed. "In a Hobbit wedding, the bride is escorted to the wedding by a family member, usually her father. I wish Bilbo were here…" She trailed off and bit her lip as tears started to sting her eyes.

She had gotten the response from Bilbo to the invitation she had sent him, with a decline to attendance. She no longer had to regret her decision of sending her cousin home to Bag End, but she did had to live with the fact that he didn't want to return to Erebor at all.

Swallowing, she forced a grin and turned to look at Balin. "I guess that won't work anymore, will it?"

"That's actually a part of the Dwarfish customs, too," Balin told her. "The bride would be led from her home in the mountain to the area where the wedding was taking place by her whole family, or at least the family that lived in the home with her. Her father would then give her over to the groom."

"I imagine a Dwarf bride's trek across the mountain is a lot harder than a Hobbit bride's stroll through the Shire," Cheyanne mused, which made Balin laugh again.

"Most definitely." He looked at her. "I hadn't known that was a Hobbit tradition. I wish I would have said something before you…" He trailed off, saving himself from a bought of Cheyanne tears. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, maybe there's someone in Erebor that would like to escort you. Anyone in mind?"

Cheyanne mulled over this. Really, there was someone she would like to escort her, but she didn't know how he would react to her asking him. She glanced at Balin again. "I'll think about it, and I'll tell you what he says when I ask." The Dwarf nodded, and Cheyanne worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "My father used to tell me about my parents' wedding," she said after a moment. "He talked about how beautiful it had all been."

Balin settled down in the chair across from the one she was sitting in to listen. Cheyanne studied the floor as she remembered all her father had said about the wedding day.

"They had the ceremony on their favorite hill, where they would go and stargaze every night while he was courting her. He said that there had been a long white aisle, and he waited at the end of it underneath an arch made of white birch that was lined with periwinkle irises and red roses and violets. He told me that the excitement and anticipation he felt almost made him jump out of his skin.

"Then, when my mother appeared at the other end of the aisle, he said that he'd felt his heart jump into his throat. He said that she "glimmered like the stars they watched every night" in her wedding gown as she walked towards him on Gandalf's arm. When they had spoken the part of the vows that the bride and groom said together, it had sounded like the sun and the moon had aligned. That's how he knew that he had chosen the right Hobbit to be his wife."

Cheyanne lifted her gaze and met Balin's. "I wanted that same memory," she said. "I wanted to feel anticipation and excitement, wanted to see my groom at the opposite end of the aisle and feel my heart leap into my throat. I wanted our voices to sound like the sun and the moon had aligned when we spoke our vows as one. I wanted to know that I had made the right decision.

"But… knowing that Thorin was willing to put aside the fact that he's a Dwarf and I'm a Hobbit? That makes me so much happier than a wedding ever will. Knowing that he doesn't care what others might think, knowing that he loves me enough to ignore all of that?" She shook her head. "I don't think anyone could ever make me feel the same way Thorin does, Balin. I don't need a wedding to realize that."

"But, in order to make it official, we do need a wedding," Balin finished.

Cheyanne smiled and nodded. "Exactly." She stood and bowed her head to him. "If you'll excuse me, please."

"Of course," Balin responded, gesturing with his hand.

Cheyanne walked out of the library, book in hand, and was almost immediately swept off of her feet by an unknown source. She discovered who it was, however, when they covered her mouth with theirs, and she tasted the familiar mixture of tobacco and wine.

The book fell from her grasp as she wrapped her arms around Thorin's neck, and he tilted her backwards to put more force into the kiss. She giggled against his lips. "Thorin, please!" she managed through her laughter.

He straightened up again, but covered her face in tiny kisses before letting her go. Cheyanne grinned at him when he finally allowed her to pull away, and she shook her head.

"What was that about?"

"I heard what you said to Balin," Thorin answered. Cheyanne blushed and she ducked her head.

"Did you?"

"Yes," he said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back to him. His lips grazed hers and he murmured, "I promise you that our wedding will give you a memory of its own, one that our daughter will want when she hears about it."

"Is that the truth of it?" Cheyanne queried, raising her eyebrow and meeting his eyes. Thorin nodded, and she smiled. "Good."

Thorin kissed her nose softly. "I trust that you're going to go ask whoever it was to be your escort, yes?" Cheyanne nodded. Thorin released her. "I will let you go do that, then."

Cheyanne gave him a small smile. "I love you," she said softly.

"And I you, ' _ibin_ ," he replied before walking past her into the library. Cheyanne waited for a moment before she smiled to herself and went to find Dwalin.

Thorin entered the library to find Balin was rising from his own chair. The old Dwarf bowed to him.

"Did you see that Lord Elrond sent his apologies for not being able to attend the wedding, along with gifts for you and Cheyanne?" Balin queried when he straightened up.

"I did," Thorin replied. "My gift is much bigger than Cheyanne's."

Balin chuckled. "You are bigger than Cheyanne."

Thorin smiled himself. "That is true." He glanced around the library. "She wants to clean up in here. Has she mentioned that to you?"

"She has," Balin replied, bending down. He picked up a soot-covered book and brushed it off. "It will be good if she's the leader of such a project. It will show she wants to restore Erebor just as much as the rest of us. The fact that it is a public space will be even better."

Thorin exhaled. "Must it always be about her public appearance?"

"It is important that the Dwarves like her -"

"She shouldn't have to ask for permission to do something she wants too," Thorin said, crossing his arms. "If she wants to clean up the library, let her do it because she wants to. Don't make a show of it being a public service."

Balin blinked at him. "Where is this coming from?"

Thorin shook his head and leaned against one of the bookshelves. "I was listening to your conversation with her, and I heard what she said about not needing a wedding because the only thing that matters is that I love her. That I do not care what the others think because she is a Hobbit." Thorin met Balin's gaze. "I want to do my best to make what she said true. I do not care that she is a Hobbit, and that some may disapprove. Others, however, do care. I don't want to force her into anything that makes her feel like I care."

Balin frowned, and Thorin glanced down again. "Does that make sense?" he asked.

"Yes," Balin said. "It does. I know that you want to do everything you can to show Cheyanne that it does not matter that you are going against tradition. But, Thorin… the truth is that it does matter, and Cheyanne needs to know it."

Thorin didn't look happy with this response. "Why must she go through these trials, Balin? Why can't she simply be accepted because I love her?"

Balin smiled complacently. "Cheyanne isn't everyone's One, Thorin. Surely, you can be grateful for that, at least."

"I suppose," Thorin said, "that everything would be much more complicated if she _was_ everyone's One."

"Do not worry, Thorin," Balin said reassuringly. "Lady Dis is turning Cheyanne into a queen worth following. Before long, I don't doubt, the Dwarves of Erebor may love her more than they love you."

Thorin allowed a small smirk to cross his features. "That will be the day, won't it?" He straightened up from the bookshelf. "I have some business to discuss with Dwalin. Do you happen to know where he is?"

"No," Balin answered, "but I imagine he is wherever Cheyanne is. Something tells me she wants him to escort her to the wedding."

Thorin's smile grew, and he nodded. "I would not be surprised if your prediction is true."

"If you look for Cheyanne, you will find Dwalin," Balin said with surety. "I guarantee it."

"Very well." Thorin nodded to Balin, and then exited the library, only to almost run into Dwalin, who was just about to enter.

"Thorin! I was lookin' for ye," Dwalin started. He was beaming, and Thorin grinned to himself. "Cheyanne asked me to escort her to the wedding!"

"Congratulations," Thorin said. "That is a great honor."

"Do you approve?" Dwalin asked him.

"Of course," Thorin replied. "And… I have an even greater honor to offer to you, if you'd like."

"Whatever you need of me, Thorin," Dwalin said immediately. "I'm at your service always, you know that."

Thorin dipped his head, and studied the floor for a moment. "I would like you to be Cheyanne's personal guard from now until I say otherwise," he said at last.

Dwalin frowned slightly at the request. "That is not something taken lightly," he said. "What made you think of this now?"

"I decided that being Queen will put more of a target on Cheyanne's back. There are those in Erebor who will not take kindly to a Hobbit being their queen, and I need to make sure she's safe," Thorin explained, leaning closer to him as a Dwarven couple walked down the hall past them, bowing low as they went.

Thorin nodded back, and then he fixed Dwalin with a look. "I do not want her getting hurt, and I know you care about her just as much as I do. There is no one else I would trust to this task, since I cannot perform it myself." Dwalin gazed at Thorin, and his friend reached forward and rested his hand on Dwalin's shoulder. "I know you would rather be at the head of Erebor's guard, but I need you in this position instead."

Dwalin let out a breath, and he nodded. "Of course," he said. "Like you said, it's a great honor. And you're right; I care about Cheyanne very much, and I do not want anything to happen to her, either." Dwalin stepped back and bowed to Thorin. "I will keep her safe for you."

"Thank you," Thorin said. A weight had already been lifted off his shoulders. "Words cannot describe -"

"And none are necessary," Dwalin responded, straightening back up. "Cheyanne is important to you and I both. Protecting her personally will bring me just as much relief as it brings you."

"There you are!" Cheyanne came bustling down the hall with Dis trailing after her, smiling. The Hobbit was puffing from moving so quickly, and she came to an abrupt halt next to Dwalin. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "You didn't give me an answer!"

Dwalin glanced at Thorin, who crossed his arms, amused. Dwalin looked back down at Cheyanne and grinned. "Apologies," he said. "I needed to make sure Thorin didn't mind before answering."

Cheyanne rolled her eyes. "Well? Does the King approve?"

Thorin chuckled, and he reached for Cheyanne. She allowed him to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her. "I approve ten times over."

"Good," Cheyanne said shortly. "We'll have to make sure his clothing matches Balin's, then."

Dwalin immediately scowled at the idea. "I have to dress up?"

"Only for an hour or so," Dis assured him, patting the Dwarf on the back. "Do not worry, Dwalin. You won't even realize you're dressed up when you're walking Cheyanne through the mountain."

Dwalin's scowl disappeared as he gazed at Thorin and Cheyanne, who had already forgotten there were two other Dwarves in the hallway with them. Thorin was speaking softly to Cheyanne, and she was nodding in response, a small grin on her face.

Dwalin smiled, too. "I suppose you're right," he said to Dis.


	8. In the House of Durin

**I may or may not have decided to change things around a bit because the title of this chapter is just _too damn good_ not to be used for the coronation and the wedding.**

* * *

"The crown is missing?" Cheyanne exclaimed, whipping around from the looking glass she was sitting before to gape at Dwalin, who had just returned with the news. "How, in the name of the Valar, can the crown be missing?"

Dwalin raised his shoulders helplessly. "When Thorin threw it off while he was under the dragon sickness, it rolled away somewhere in the Gallery of the Kings and disappeared. We haven't been able to find it."

"My lady, please," Fala begged softly, trying to urge Cheyanne to face forward again so that she could finish her hair.

"How are we supposed to have a coronation without the crown?" Cheyanne hissed, facing forward again all the same. Having her hair done was a pain on its own, and she was making it worse by moving.

"I'm sure they'll find it," Dwalin replied, walking towards where Cheyanne was seated. He met her eyes in the looking glass. "The Company is all down there now, searching for it."

"Balin is going to keel over," Cheyanne murmured, closing her eyes. She grunted, however, and opened them again where there was a jerk on her head.

"I'm so sorry!" Fala exclaimed. "I did not mean -"

"It's fine," Cheyanne grumbled. "Are you almost done?"

"Yes, my lady," Fala answered quietly. "Would you like the King's cuff, or a different one?"

"Of course I want Thorin's cuff!" Cheyanne said. "Valar, has everyone lost their minds?"

Fala quickly slid the cuff onto the end of the lavish braid she had pulled Cheyanne's hair into, and stepped back, her head bowed. Dwalin let out a breath and crouched down beside where Cheyanne was seated.

"Cheyanne, lass…"

"What?"

"Everything is goin' to be all right," he assured. "I know that this seems extremely stressful, but I promise that it'll all just seem like a bad dream once that crown is on Thorin's head."

Cheyanne turned and glared at him. "How is it supposed to seem like a bad dream, if we don't know where the crown is?!" she exclaimed, pushing Dwalin away from her and rising from where she sat. She paced across her bedchamber with a frustrated groan, covering her face with her hands. "I should not be panicking about this. I'm not the one being crowned today. Oh no. I'm just marrying the Dwarf who is being crowned, that's all. No reason for me to worry. Not at all."

There was a knock on the door, and Fala quickly went to answer it. Dwalin stood up and walked over to where Cheyanne had stopped in the middle of the room, her hands still over her face.

"Lass -?"

"I don't want to marry a king, Dwalin," she whispered. "I know I've been trying so hard to learn how to act, but I just…" She lowered her hands and looked at him. "This isn't me." She gestured to the royal blue dress with silver trimming she was wearing, made specifically for the coronation. "I don't belong in fancy dresses, or at ballroom parties. I'm a Hobbit of the Shire, not a Dwarf of Erebor." She shook her head. "Thorin should be marrying a Dwarrowdam who was born in these halls, or one from another of the Dwarven families. Not me. I'm not… I'm not good enough."

Dwalin exhaled slowly. "Lass, now is not the time to be questioning your worth," he said to her.

"You should never question your worth." They both turned towards the door and found Thorin standing in the doorway, dressed regally in a crisp white shirt and black breeches. He wore a royal blue cloak, lined with what looked to be wolf fur on the inside. The lining on the outside was silver, and it matched Cheyanne's dress.

He approached the Hobbit slowly, and crouched down a bit so that he was at her level. Taking her chin in his hand, he made her look him in the eye.

"I love you, Cheyanne Baggins," he told her softly. "Nothing will ever change that. Not me becoming a king, not you becoming a queen. Nothing. You are my One, and I would not be complete without you. Not even if I had all the gold in Middle-earth or the crown already on my head." He smiled at her. "Which we found."

Cheyanne closed her eyes. Thorin was so good at calming her down.

Still, that didn't erase that fact that she hadn't slept. Again.

He didn't need to know that, however. Dwalin had seen it, but thankfully, he hadn't recognized her outburst as exhaustion. If he had, there was no way it would be kept quiet from Thorin, and the last thing he needed was to be worrying about her.

Cheyanne forced her eyes to open, even though she longed to fall asleep in Thorin's arms, and she managed a grin for him.

"I'm glad you found the crown," she said.

Thorin chuckled, and he placed a kiss on her forehead. "I wanted to come and make sure you were ready," he said, straightening up. He stepped back, holding Cheyanne's hand in his own, and twirled her around in a slow circle under his arm. His eyes glittered.

"You're beautiful," he told her, and Cheyanne laughed.

"Thank you. This dress is extremely uncomfortable."

"Uh, Thorin?" They both looked at Dwalin, and he nodded towards the window shaft on one wall. The sunlight coming through it had created a narrow shadow on the floor, one that said the hour was getting late, and that the coronation would be starting very soon. "Cheyanne and I need to take our places."

"Right," Thorin agreed, "and I need to get ready for my entrance." He looked at Cheyanne for another minute, holding her hand in his. He squeezed it reassuringly, and then let go, bowing to her. "I will see you soon," he promised, rising.

Cheyanne nodded, and watched as her Dwarf exited her bedchamber. She looked at Dwalin, then, and his shoulders rose and fell. "Feel better?" he asked her.

Cheyanne smiled, and nodded. "Yes. Much."

"Good," Dwalin said, stepping forward. He offered her his arm. "We must go to the throne hall."

Cheyanne inhaled, and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. Three days from now, and she would be doing the same thing, only to go to her wedding instead of Thorin's coronation.

The ceremony would be as brief as possible. Thorin didn't like big celebrations, at least when they were about himself. Cheyanne couldn't help but think about the celebration that had occurred in Lake-town not long ago, which had been all about Thorin. He hadn't been opposed to big celebrations, then.

She supposed, however, that he had considered his possible death. Who wouldn't want to celebrate and get thoroughly drunk when they thought they may die the following day? Even Bilbo had gotten in on the celebration, more than she thought him capable.

She and Dwalin traveled to the throne room, where the coronation would occur. She and Dwalin, as well as the rest of the Company, had front row seats. They would watch Thorin take his oath and be crowned from the bottom of the dais. The Dwarf in the Company with the longest arms would be able to reach out and stroke Thorin's cloak.

The rest of Erebor would line up on the stairwell connecting the throne hall to the main hall, and spread out in the main hall if necessary. Cheyanne thought that the Dwarves in the main hall would be the luckiest; they wouldn't get to see the crowning, but they also wouldn't be at a risk for falling off the stairwell, either.

Balin had said that the coronation was never quite as large, but since Thorin's was "special", it was appropriate for all the Dwarves to be in attendance.

Dis, of course, was seated right beside Cheyanne when she and Dwalin finally made their way to the throne hall. The Dwarrowdam nodded to them both as they took their seats, but she didn't speak. It wasn't appropriate to speak at anytime, Balin had said.

Dain was standing on the dais along with Balin himself, waiting to bear witness to Thorin's crowning. Cheyanne thought that the stocky, red-haired Dwarf looked slightly peevish, but she supposed it could have simply been her imagination.

Almost immediately after she and Dwalin had arrived, Dwarves directly behind where the Company was seated began to pound on the drums they had brought with them to the throne room. The Company rose from their seats, and Cheyanne inhaled as she watched Thorin descend one of the stairwells behind the throne.

His cloak splayed out grandly behind him, and he held his head high. Thorin was certainly a prince that was to be a king today.

He walked down the stairs, and around the throne to stand before Balin, who was waiting for him. The drums stopped in time with him. Dain stepped back, watching the two Dwarves as they gazed at one another.

After a moment, Balin gestured for the Company to sit. Cheyanne sat along with the others, her eyes trained on Thorin.

Balin inhaled, and then began to speak. His voice rang out clearly through the silent throne hall. Cheyanne thanked the Valar she knew Khuzdul well enough to understand what he was saying. The glory of the moment would have been lost on her if she hadn't.

"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, you are the rightful heir to the throne of the King Under the Mountain."

"I am," Thorin answered.

"As King Under the Mountain, you will be promising to uphold all laws laid by those who were King Under the Mountain before you. You will be promising to protect and care for all those who live Under the Mountain. You will be promising to respond to a call for need from any of those you are allied with. You will be promising to rule with utter surety. Do you understand all of these conditions?"

"I do," Thorin replied.

"Then let us begin the oath." Thorin bowed his head, and Balin continued on. "Do you promise to uphold all laws laid by those who were King Under the Mountain before you?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to protect and care for all those who live Under the Mountain?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to respond to a call for need from any of those you are allied with?"

"I do."

"And do you promise to rule with utter surety?"

"I do."

"He has promised to follow all of these conditions as King Under the Mountain," Balin announced. "Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror…" Balin bent over and picked up the crown, which had been resting on a royal blue pillow by his feet. He straightened up and held it over Thorin's head. "I now crown you as King Under the Mountain. With Dain of the Iron Hills and Mahal as our witness, you are now King." Balin lowered the crown onto Thorin's head. "Rise now, Thorin Oakenshield, as King Under the Mountain."

Thorin did as he was told, and he turned to face those who were watching. His cloak seemed to flow with his movements, and it fell against the stone of the dais in a perfect waterfall. Cheyanne's breathing had caught in her throat, and she gasped a bit.

Dis's hand found hers, and the Dwarrowdam leaned down to speak in her ear as the others all began to cheer uproariously; "Breathe, Cheyanne, if you remember how."

"All hail the King Under the Mountain!" Balin called.

"All hail the King Under the Mountain!" the attendees replied, and the cheering continued.

And Cheyanne inhaled.

Thorin met her gaze, and she gave him a smile. He winked in response.

And Cheyanne exhaled.

"One ceremony down, one more to go," Dwalin said to her. "Think you can get passed one more?"

Cheyanne nodded, her eyes still on Thorin, her King. "Yes," she said. "I can."

And she was completely sure of her response.

Later that evening, while the coronation celebration went on below them, Cheyanne and Thorin sat in her bridal chamber. They had pulled a big velvet armchair up in front of the empty stone fireplace, and Thorin was sitting in it, with Cheyanne curled up on his lap, her head against his chest.

Thorin cradled her in his arms, his eyes closed as he took in her presence as a whole, the feeling of her in his arms, the scent of lavender and vanilla in her hair and on her skin. In three short days, she would be his wife, but for now, she was just Cheyanne, and she was sleeping peacefully on his lap.

Thorin knew that she hadn't been sleeping well since the two of them had been separated to apply some traditional aspect to their relationship. He disliked the fact that Cheyanne was suffering from it, but she hadn't said anything to him other than when he had brought it up the first time, while they were writing the invitations.

Either it wasn't causing her too much distress, or she was simply keeping it hidden very well.

It didn't matter. Thorin wanted her to get rest, and so he had offered to sit with her until she had fallen asleep. She had, by the sound of her breathing and the soft snore that came from her.

He smiled to himself. He loved that snore of hers.

He knew he needed to carry her to her bed before stiffness settled in from sleeping curled up in the way she was, but he wanted to hold her against his chest for a moment longer. After the dreamlike events that had been his coronation and the celebration afterwards, Cheyanne was real, and he wanted to feel it.

He knew, of course, that he was actually King Under the Mountain. He knew that the coronation had been official, that Dain had signed the witness papers, and that Balin had had the authority to name him King. He just didn't feel like a king. Nothing had changed, seemingly. He was still Thorin, and he still had Cheyanne. The Thorin who had only had dreams of one day being King Under the Mountain had not thought he would ever feel as peaceful as he did just then.

Yet, here he was. His Halfling was snuggled up on his lap, snoring her soft snore as she slept deeply, three days before they were to be married. He was now, officially, the ruler of all those who lived in Erebor. Thorin had accomplished much in his time, but nothing had ever made him feel this way.

He felt… fulfilled.

He exhaled, and, making sure that Cheyanne remained undisturbed, slowly rose from the armchair, holding her in his arms. He made his way into her bedchamber, and gently laid her down on the bed. She stirred slightly, and Thorin froze in his placement of her, waiting to make sure she stayed asleep.

Thankfully, she did, and he smiled to himself, pulling her blanket up over her.

"Sleep well, ' _ibinê_ ," he whispered, kissing her temple. He stepped backwards away from the bed and blew out the candle on the bedside table. Thorin cast one last look at the lump in the bed that was his Hobbit, and then he exited the bedchamber, closing the door softly behind him.

He stood in the middle of the parlor section of her apartment, then, glancing around. He was glad she would only have to stay in this apartment for a few more days. It was plain, much to simple for Cheyanne. She needed light, and beauty in her apartment.

The window she had mentioned before would be a good addition to their Royal Apartment, once they moved in.

Cheyanne watched her reflection in the looking glass, unable to do anything but stare. Dis and Hammaril and Fala had just slid her into her wedding gown, and… she had transformed. Was this really her? Was she the one about to get married?

"This is it." Dis's voice brought Cheyanne out of her head, and she blinked a few times, pulling her eyes away from the looking glass before her. "Today's the day. No fancy contracts, no money to pay… just you and Thorin, before everyone, in a ceremony that will show how much the two of you love one another."

"More than words can say," Cheyanne murmured to herself, remembering what Thorin had said to her in Khuzdul, several weeks before. Her lessons had given her enough understanding to the words, and now she knew what they meant: I love you more than words can say.

Well, wasn't that the truth for the both of them?

Dis repeated what she had said in Khuzdul, under her breath: " _Zâyungi zu yothur nidif gulûb ublûr aglâbizd_." She looked up at Cheyanne and smiled. "You've learned well these past weeks, sweet Halfling. I have done my best. Now, however, you must show the others what you can."

"I will never be able to return the favor," Cheyanne said softly. She held out her hand, and Dis accepted it, helping her down off of the pedestal. "You have done more for me than I will ever be able to do for you."

Dis shook her head. "You saved my sons, and my brother, from death," she said, brushing her thumb along Cheyanne's cheek. "For that… my lessons are only a small fraction of the price I owe to you."

Cheyanne sniffled, and Dis let out a breathy laugh. "Stop, or we'll both be crying," she said with a shake of her head. She then cleared her throat and clapped her hands together. "Now! I believe we have a wedding to attend, don't we?"

Cheyanne nodded, and Dis went to the door of Cheyanne's bridal chamber, pulling it open. "Come on, come on!" she said hurriedly, drawing Dwalin into the room. "You'll make us late with your hesitancy."

"I'm sorry, my lady, but this garb is very uncomfortable."

Cheyanne was giggling to herself. Dwalin had a very fine suit on, dark blue in color with black breeches underneath the coat he wore. It looked tailored for someone with much smaller shoulders than the Dwarf, but he did look nice.

"I think it's lovely," she said, chuckling a few more times. She then walked over to Dwalin, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

Slowly, he reached forward and brushed a hand against her cheek. Cheyanne smiled at the tenderness, and Dwalin blinked a few times.

"You were born of starlight," he whispered.

Cheyanne shook her head. "I just look that way because of the white. I was born in a forest, in the middle of the day." She moved Dwalin's hand from her cheek into her own. "It's time, Dwalin."

"Right," he agreed. "We're takin' too long." He slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and let out a breath. "Little Cheyanne, gettin' married."

"Stop it," she said with a laugh. "Let's just go."

"We're walking out of the mountain," Dis said. "When we get outside, there's going to be a big crowd. Don't trip."

"I'll do my best," Cheyanne said, swallowing a gulp.

Together, following behind Dis, she and Dwalin walked out of her bridal chamber and headed towards the gates of Erebor. Cheyanne managed to keep from tripping over her dress, and she glanced up at Dwalin. The Dwarf looked down at her and winked. Cheyanne instantly felt much better.

The walk from her chambers to the gates meant to take five minutes, but it felt more like five seconds. The halls of Erebor were silent, probably because everyone was outside, waiting. Cheyanne shivered at the thought, and Dwalin patted the hand that was in the crook of his elbow.

They walked, and walked, following Dis. The Dwarrowdam had her head high, and Cheyanne could practically see the grin on her face, even though she wasn't facing them. Her long braid swished back and forth against her dress. Cheyanne couldn't help but watch it, keeping her steps in time to its sway.

They reached the gates, and Dis turned to face them. By custom, they were not allowed to speak to one another, but the reassuring smile she gave Cheyanne was enough. Cheyanne nodded, and Dis turned to the two guards posted at the gates, giving them the silent command to open them.

The Dwarves did so, each grabbing an edge of a door and hauling them open. Dis's shoulders rose and fell as sunlight washed over the three of them, and she glanced over her shoulder once more, winking. She then started her walk.

Cheyanne could hear excited speaking from outside, and she could see the beginning of the crowd that had moved outside to watch the ceremony. She pushed closer to Dwalin's side, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head before gesturing towards the doors with his chin.

It was time.

Cheyanne allowed him to lead her outside, and she blinked in the sunlight. As soon as they caught sight of the two of them, the crowd fell silent. It was as though they knew something magical was about to happen, and Cheyanne grinned to herself as she and Dwalin walked down the long white aisle, passing the beautiful posts with vases of flowers on the tops of them.

The aisle led out of Erebor and up to the place where the Company had gathered to watch Smaug destroy Lake-town (apparently, it was tradition to be married there or something. Cheyanne disapproved quietly to herself when Balin was out of earshot), which meant they had a bit of a climb. Cheyanne was ready for it, however, and Dwalin seemed more comfortable as they moved out of the thickest part of the crowd and towards the front, where honored guests had been given seats.

Dain and some of his family, all of the Company, Dis, Bard and his children… even Thranduil and a few of his Elves. Cheyanne spotted Kili sitting beside Tauriel, their hands clasped, and she winked at them as she passed. Kili turned red and Tauriel started to chuckle silently, her shoulders shaking.

Cheyanne allowed herself to look past the guests and towards the place where she was going. She felt her throat tighten and her heart speed up as soon as she laid eyes on Thorin.

He was dressed in a royal blue cloak paired with a crisp white shirt with golden stitching. He had black breeches on as well, and a new pair of boots. Balin stood behind him slightly, dressed almost exactly like Dwalin, only Balin's coat was red.

Cheyanne couldn't breathe. She was about to get married. She was going to be a queen.

Dwalin led her up the makeshift stairs leading to Thorin and Balin. They came to a halt, and Dwalin slid Cheyanne's hand from his elbow, holding onto it long enough to turn her towards him and place a kiss on her forehead. He then leaned forward and spoke in her ear: "Thank you for choosing me to do that."

Cheyanne merely smiled in response, and Dwalin winked at her one more time before he placed her hand in Thorin's. Cheyanne's heart skipped to a stop as she met his gaze. Everything else disappeared, and it was just the two of them.

"You are more beautiful than I deserve," he whispered after a moment.

"Don't lie," Cheyanne replied, just as quiet. "You deserve every kind of beauty in the world. You just found me first."

Thorin chuckled, and reached up one hand to stroke her cheek. "Are you afraid?"

"Terrified."

"Don't be."

Balin clearing his throat brought her out of their world, and they both glanced at him. He gave Thorin a look, and Thorin nodded once, letting go of Cheyanne's hand. He then circled her, once, and almost immediately, the roar of the wedding attendants rushed to meet them. He stepped in front of her again, grinning.

"It means that I'll protect you," he explained.

"Right," Cheyanne said. "Balin told me that."

They waited a good two minutes for the cheering to die away, and when it did, Thorin turned to Dwalin, who had stepped off to the side. Dwalin smiled and lifted his chin.

"Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, do you promise to protect your bride? Will you accept her into your halls, into your family, and as your queen?" he queried.

"I will," Thorin answered. He then lowered himself to one knee in front of Dwalin. "Thank you for bringing her to me, old friend," he said, looking up at him.

"Ah," Dwalin said dismissively, pulling him to his feet again. "She brought herself."

Cheyanne smiled as those closest enough to hear what he had said chuckled, and Thorin came back to her, taking both her hands in his. Balin grinned at them both before raising his voice loud enough to be heard by everyone: "The bride and groom will now recite the Seven Blessings!"

Thorin lifted his eyebrow, and Cheyanne nodded once, telling him she was ready.

He returned the nod, and then started speaking: " _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha sullu khama akrâzu Sulladad._ "

Valar. He was too perfect.

Cheyanne repeated his words, almost positive that she didn't sound nearly as good as him. Thorin was smiling, despite it all, and he went on: " _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha kâmin, abbad ra hanâd._ "

Again, Cheyanne copied his words, making sure she didn't speak too quickly and flub it.

" _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha îbin ra ritîh ni kurdû id-abad._ "

As she repeated the lines, she considered what would happened if she messed up. Would she curse them? That was a terrifying thought, and she quickly made it leave her mind.

" _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha khazâd ra barraf haded_."

This was taking a lot longer than she'd thought, and they were barely halfway done.

" _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' gashara khazâd atrâb d'amzur îbin ra ritîh ni kurdû id-abad_."

Did she even know what she was saying? Of course she did. Dwalin had doubted her the day before, and when she'd showed him she knew what the words meant, he'd given her twenty pieces of gold, grumbling to himself.

" _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' mahgayada dûmmâ tur naddanhu_."

One more to go. Thank the Gods.

" _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' mahgayada mayasthûn ra mayasthûna_."

Whoo. What an adventure.

Thorin was beaming at her, and Cheyanne had to grin herself. She'd done it. She'd said the Seven Blessings.

 _Yes_.

Just one last thing.

Thorin placed his hand on her cheek. " _Ni dûmê zasamkhihiya zahar, ni kurduzi zâmkhihi azhâr_."

Cheyanne closed her eyes for a moment. _In my halls you will find a house, and in your heart I will find a home_. It was time for her to return his words with: " _Ni dûmzu zâmkhihi zahar, ni kurdumê zasamkhihi azhâr._ "

 _In your halls I will find a house, and in my heart you will find a home._

Thorin looked like he wanted to kiss her then and there, but they weren't quite done yet. He reached a hand into his pocket, and withdrew a small silver band. He offered it to her, and Cheyanne took it, admiring the markings on it for a moment before sliding it onto the same finger as the other ring he had given her. The piece of Arkenstone glittered brightly as her hand moved.

She then looked at Dwalin, who was ready. He passed her the ring she'd tried to forge for Thorin, but had ended up needing help with. It was a thicker silver band, almost matching hers but without the markings.

 _Understandable. He's not joining my house; I'm joining his_.

After Thorin had slid his ring on, Balin let out a relieved breath.

"In the eyes of Mahal, these two are now bound as one. One life, one love." He grinned widely. "I am pleased to announce that Cheyanne and Thorin are wed!"

The crowd cheered their approval, and Cheyanne couldn't stop smiling, even when Balin gestured with his hands that Thorin should kiss her. She smiled through that, and the journey down the stairs and into the wedding attendants, where she found herself giving hugs and shaking hands and all kinds of other things. She was pretty sure she even gave out a couple kisses on the cheek.

In the end, though, she found her way back to Thorin, and he encircled her in his arms, holding her closer as the attendants rushed past bride and groom towards the place where the partying would begin.

"' _ibinê_ ," Thorin started, and she hummed in response. "I am very proud to call you my wife."

"I am proud to call you my husband," Cheyanne said, squeezing her arms tighter around Thorin's waist. "Are we allowed to drink, now?"

Thorin laughed. "Yes," he said. "I think we can safely say it's time to celebrate."

"Wonderful." Cheyanne pulled back and grabbed for his hand. "Let's go!"

To say the celebrations were exciting would be an understatement. Seven days of feasting, dancing, singing and drinking were almost too much for Cheyanne to handle, but… when you're married to a dwarf, you have to muster the strength.

So, she did.

The first thing she had to do, however, once everyone had eaten on the first night of celebrating, was receive her crown and title of Queen Under the Mountain.

There had been a pedestal of sorts set up near where the band took its place, and Cheyanne was busy talking with Sigrid about her dress when Dwalin started speaking, calling for everyone's attention. Cheyanne turned away from Bard's eldest daughter and found Dwalin standing beside Thorin on the pedestal, waiting.

When silence had fallen over the area, he cleared his throat. "Cheyanne, we need you to come up here, please."

Cheyanne frowned, but all the same did as she was asked. This was not something Balin had prepared her for. She glanced questioningly at Dis, who was seated at a table with Dain. The Dwarrowdam merely smiled and winked.

Cheyanne let out a breath and walked up onto a pedestal, using Dwalin's hand for support. He led her over to Thorin, who was smiling.

"What's going on?" she whispered, managing to keep a grin plastered on her face despite her confusion.

Instead of answering her, however, the King turned to face the attendants, who were watching expectantly, as though they understood what was happening.

"As my wife, Cheyanne understands she will be taking on the title as Queen Under the Mountain," Thorin began.

Cheyanne felt her heart slow. Ah, Gods…

"With that title will come responsibilities, ones that I know she will be able to undertake with barely any struggle. With that title comes something else as well." Thorin waved his hand, and Fili, whom Cheyanne hadn't noticed, stepped forward, holding out a pillow. Sitting on top of the pillow was a golden crown, decorated with diamond-encrusted, gold leaves.

Cheyanne's eyes widened as Thorin picked up the crown and held it towards her. "Kneel," he said.

Cheyanne did as she was told, lowering herself to her knees and bowing her head. "Cheyanne Baggins, I crown you as Queen Under the Mountain," Thorin announced. He placed the crown on her head, and she looked up at him. He held out his hand, and she accepted it. As he drew her to her feet, he said, "Rise, not as my wife, but as _melhekhinhuh_." Cheyanne stared at him, and Thorin smiled. "My Queen."

"All hail the Queen Under the Mountain!" Fili called.

"All hail the Queen Under the Mountain!" The returning cheer made Cheyanne's heart swell, and she bowed her head, unable to do anything more.

Thorin pulled her into his side, and he waved his hand. "Enjoy the rest of the celebration!"

"All hail the King and Queen Under the Mountain!"

The band struck up another lively tune, and Cheyanne shook her head at Thorin.

"Why did no one tell me?"

"It was meant to be a surprise."

"Well, consider me surprised," she said with a laugh, reaching her hand up to touch the crown.

"We forged it for you," Thorin explained. "You are the only Queen Under the Mountain who has worn it, and who will wear it."

"Why the leaves?" Cheyanne asked.

"Balin told me a few things you'd mentioned," Thorin answered, eyes glimmering. "Leaves seemed appropriate for a Hobbit born in the woods on Midsummer's Eve."

Cheyanne shook her head and laughed again before hugging him tightly. "Thank you."

"Shall we dance?" Thorin asked her.

"Uh…"

"Come on," he said. "I won't let you fall."

"I should hope not!" Cheyanne exclaimed, but she allowed him to pull her off of the pedestal. When he noticed the two of them, Kili immediately slowed the speed of his playing to a much calmer song. His band mates followed suit, and Thorin pulled Cheyanne close to him, picking her up and placing her feet on his.

Cheyanne gave him a small smile, and she rested her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She allowed the music to lull her into a daydream, in which she and Thorin were dancing on a cloud.

When it ended, she was sorry.

Thorin helped her off his feet, and he placed a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, ' _ibinê_ ," he said softly.

The next few days of celebrating continued much the same. The second, she lost in a drinking contest to Bofur (not a surprise). The third, she danced with Thranduil and Bard (which was a surprise). The fourth, she found herself wishing, not for the first time, she could dance with her cousin, while watching Fili and Kili prance around with one another.

The fifth night, she was sitting alone at her table, when Fili came up to her, beaming.

"My Queen," he started, bowing low. "I would appreciate a dance."

Cheyanne smiled and accepted the hand he offered to her. "It probably won't go well."

"A risk I am willing to take," he answered with a smirk, pulling her around the table and towards the dance floor.

She was aware that Thorin was watching them closely as Fili turned her around to face him, pulling her snugly against him with one hand on the small of her back.

"Fili!" Cheyanne exclaimed.

"Yes?"

She grinned up at him as Kili and his partners started a tune. Fili gazed down at her as they started to spin in a simple dance. For whatever reason, Cheyanne found her feet cooperating. The music picked up, and so did the dance.

Fili twirled her outwards, away from him, her skirt spinning around her legs.

She spun back inwards, finding herself with her back to Fili's chest. She blushed darkly when he pressed his cheek against her temple. "Not a good dancer, hmm?" he asked her, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I'm u-usually not," she stammered. What had overcome her?

The dance continued just as gracefully as it had started, and when it ended, Fili faced her and smiled warmly, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. "Thank you for the dance, my Queen," he whispered, eyes glimmering.

With that, he released her hand and walked away to join Kili and the band. Cheyanne blinked after him in surprise. What had just happened?

The confusion ended when she felt a pair of arms around her waist, Thorin's familiar smell filling her nose. "You danced with my nephew nicely," he said into her ear.

"I know," Cheyanne responded, placing her hands over his. "Perhaps it's because he's a better dancer than you."

Thorin chuckled and placed a gentle kiss behind her ear. "Are you willing to give me another dance?"

"In two more nights," she answered teasingly, pulling away from him.

The sixth night, she danced with every member of the Company, aside from Fili, who was nowhere to be found, and Bombur, who had fallen asleep.

The seventh night… well…

She and Thorin didn't go to the celebration. Instead, Cheyanne found herself in their refurbished Royal Apartment, dressed in a sheer lavender-colored nightgown, sitting on the edge of their giant, obsidian bed. The whole Apartment was Balin's wedding gift to them, he had said, and Cheyanne thought it was beautiful.

The Apartment included a main parlor, which led into three separate rooms, including the bedchamber she was now sitting in. The bedchamber was home to the mass closet Thorin had requested, as well as a mysterious door that was against one wall. The other two doors in the main parlor included the closet Thorin was having converted into a music room, and an extra room, which she assumed would be turned into a writing room of some kind for the King.

The Apartment as a whole was beautiful decorated with furniture that equally matched Thorin's regal, strong tastes, and Cheyanne's own simplistic, easy-going tastes, all in shades of lilac and royal blue. It was a gorgeous place to live, and it fit perfectly within the halls of Erebor.

Cheyanne couldn't wait for the window to finally come to fruition.

She watched the royal blue canopy of their bed sway in the direction the drafty air took it, shivering a bit.

This was definitely going to be an interesting evening, if what she'd heard around Erebor was true.

 _"Anyone who's anyone knows that Thorin is wild in bed!"_

 _"I hear that he can make a woman purr like a kitten and an instant later make her scream his name."_

Of course, that wasn't what Cheyanne wanted to hear about her husband. She had no reason to believe these statements were true, either.

She would get her answer soon enough.

Dis had said that she should not submit to Thorin, but she did not know if that advice applied in bed as well as out. She decided, however, that she may as well test heated water first, before assuming lukewarm was the better decision.

"Cold?" Thorin's voice reached her, and she glanced over her shoulder, swallowing when she saw him standing in the doorway of the closet, wearing nothing but a pair of sleeping breeches.

She managed a grin and slid off of the bed. "How could you tell?" Thorin walked towards her slowly, and then placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing away the gooseflesh that had risen there. Cheyanne chuckled weakly. "Guilty."

She took him in for a moment, feeling uncertain. His chiseled chest lay before her, covered in scars, both old and new, that longed to be touched and... kissed. The same went for his shoulders, which rose and fell as he took in her scrutiny.

She finally lifted her eyes to his. "May I -?"

He did not shake his head, or nod, so Cheyanne simply did as she wanted, walking in a slow circle around him, trailing her hand along the lower parts of his chest, sides and back. She stopped when she got behind him, and placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

"How do you want to do this?" she asked, her voice low. Thorin shivered slightly at her breath on his bare skin, wondering whether or not he should bring her around to his front and kiss her passionately, or wait for her to come to him.

He wasn't typically patient, but he also didn't want to scare her away.

"This night will go anyway you would like it to," he said softly.

In response, Cheyanne walked around to stand in front of him again. Slowly, she slipped her hands around his neck and drew his lips down to hers. He wrapped his own arms around her waist as she tugged at his lower lip with her teeth and then slid her mouth along his jawline and towards his earlobe.

Thorin let out a soft groan when she pulled on it with her lips and lowered her hands to the ties on his sleeping bottoms, struggling to get them undone. He could feel her almost forced urgency as she did so, and he angled his hips away from her, pulling back.

"Is this truly your wish?" he asked gently, using a hand to brush some hair behind her ear. "I will not force you into anything, ' _ibinê_."

In response, Cheyanne merely pressed her lips firmly to his once more, using her tongue to fight his for dominance, and winning. When she pulled away, she uttered the very last thing Thorin expected to hear from her, especially with the word she put in there.

He understood now. The _Talk_ had reached her.

He sighed and stepped back slightly, making sure to keep her hands in his. Cheyanne frowned and started to follow him, but stopped when he merely gazed at her instead of picking her up and taking her to the bed like she had thought he would.

When he saw the anxiety in her eyes fade, Thorin stepped closer to Cheyanne once again and placed his hands on either side of her face, running one thumb across her bottom lip. Cheyanne closed her eyes at the gentle and loving touch.

"What do you want, Thorin?" she whispered.

"I want you to enjoy this night, and every night after," he answered just as softly.

Cheyanne huffed to herself. "What do you want from me?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his.

"I want you to enjoy this night, and every night after." Thorin leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, pulling away only to say, "I want you to direct me. I want you to tell me where to put my hands, my mouth. I want you to tell me whether I am going to fast, or too slow, whether I am hurting you or not pleasuring you enough."

 _Valar_.

"I want you… to tell me what you want from me."

Cheyanne pulled back far enough to take in his full expression, and she swooned at how dark his eyes were, and yet how gentle at the same time. He truly wanted the night to be for her.

Realizing this, Cheyanne told him exactly what she wanted him to do, without shame, and without any remorse.

Thorin's eyes brightened at the commands, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, wanting nothing more than to do as Cheyanne has asked him to, for as long as they had time to do it.

The night passed gorgeously. Cheyanne had never been so content and pleased and pleasured and…

Gods, every part of Thorin made her want more. His tongue to his mouth, his mouth to his hands, his hands to his… well…

Not once did he harm her, even though some of the noises she created made him worry.

"I am hurting you…"

"No, my love, you could never."

It was nice.

It was extremely nice.

After their third round, Thorin slid away from Cheyanne and fell beside her on the bed, his chest rising and falling. Cheyanne purred to herself, and Thorin let out a hum at the sound. She reached over with one hand and stroked her fingers through his beard, watching as his eyelids fluttered.

"What are you thinking about?" she queried.

"Mm." His smile grew. "Watching you bathe in S _haluk Nûlukhulkhud._ "

"In the what?"

"The Waters of Moonlight. Our private bathing chamber," Thorin explained, turning his head in Cheyanne's direction and opening his eyes. "The waters have healing properties. It may help."

"Your kisses help," Cheyanne found herself saying.

Thorin chuckled at her bluntness and kissed the fingers that were resting on his lips. "Shall we take a trip, my Queen, and see what both can do at the same time?"

Cheyanne raised her eyebrows at the suggestion. "Let's go."

Together, they dressed in soft robes - wedding gifts from Hammaril - and Thorin led her through the mysterious doorway she had noticed before. The door took them into a passage lit only by the occasional endlessly burning lantern and down a set of obsidian stairs into the most beautiful place Cheyanne had ever seen.

The stairs opened out into a cavern. A small waterfall trickled down from the ceiling into a deep pool in the center of the chamber. A crack in the dark rock revealed the slightest beam from the moon overhead, lighting the pool with a silvery glow.

By the water's edge was a blanket and two wine glasses, as well as some candles and a bottle of red wine.

"Thorin!" Cheyanne exclaimed, her voice breathy. "Why didn't you tell me about this place before?"

"It was meant to be a surprise."

"Oh!" Cheyanne couldn't help herself. She threw off her robe and latched her arms around his neck, breathing into the hollow of his neck and shoulder. "Make love to me again," she begged.

Thorin chuckled and pushed her away long enough to remove his own robe before taking her hand in his and leading her to the pool. Once they were both in it (the water was pleasantly warm), he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her against him again.

The rest of the night was spent kissing, sipping wine, swimming, and lovemaking. Cheyanne wondered where she found all the energy to stay awake, but she eventually decided that it was simply Thorin and let him carry her through the night.

However, as the moon disappeared from the crack and sunlight began to fill the cavern instead, she found herself lying on the blanket, the wine bottle long empty and her robe draped across her. She watched Thorin stand beneath the waterfall through hooded eyes, drowsily considering joining him.

Before she could decide, he was with her on the blanket, pulling his own robe on and laying down beside her.

"Did you enjoy our night?" he queried, breath warm on her neck.

Cheyanne merely hummed in answer, and Thorin took it as a yes. He laced their fingers together in front of Cheyanne and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

"Will we have another night like that, my love?" she asked hopefully.

Thorin smiled to himself. "Maybe not exactly the same, but that was not the last night we will be spending in S _haluk Nûlukhulkhud_ , I promise you."

"Good," Cheyanne said, yawning, and Thorin chuckled.

* * *

 **Translations for the Seven Blessings:**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha sullu khama akrâzu Sulladad._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who has created everything for the glory of Eru.))**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha kâmin, abbad ra hanâd._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who fashioned the earth, the mountains and the hills.))**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha îbin ra ritîh ni kurdû id-abad._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who fashioned the gems and metals in the heart of the mountain.))**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' muha khazâd ra barraf haded._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who fashioned the dwarves and the seven houses.))**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' gashara khazâd atrâb d'amzur îbin ra ritîh ni kurdû id-abad._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who taught the dwarves the skill to work the gems and metals in the heart of the mountain.))**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' mahgayada dûmmâ tur naddanhu._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who gladdens our Halls through his children.))**

 ** _Mamahdûn Mahal ku' mahgayada mayasthûn ra mayasthûna._ ((Blessed are you Mahal who gladdens groom and bride.))**

 **Many thanks to The Dwarrow Scholar for this post ( 2013/04/11/whos-the-bride-dwarven-marriage/) about possibilities to traditional Dwarven marriage. I thought long and hard about how I was going to make the wedding as Dwarven-traditional as possible, and then I was like... "Why don't I just look it up, and see if anyone credible has their own ideas?"**

 **Lo and behold, The Dwarrow Scholar was there to save the day.**


	9. Fog on the Hobbit-minds

**Yay reviews! Well, one, I guess, but yay notheless!**

 **Woman of Letters: Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope Bilbo forgives Cheyanne, too, which... and Jon... well, you'll see.  
In any case, I do appreciate your sweet review. 3**

 **And that goes to everyone! Please, do not be afraid to leave a note or two whenever you feel like it. That is, after all, how a writer knows that their readers want more.**

* * *

Cheyanne strolled about the main hall of Erebor, watching the comings and goings of the Dwarves, her people, as they scurried about. It was a distraction for herself, from her dream of the night before. They were beginning to return, even after leaving her alone in the three months that had passed since she and Thorin had moved into their newest bedchamber, the dark dreams she rarely remembered. This one was the same, and she couldn't remember what it had been about, but she knew that it had been sad.

And she had woken up with the words of a song she was certain she had never heard in her head. It was a repetitive lyric, one that seemed to be the only part of the song. It was odd, but she felt as though she knew what it was, in an odd way, even though she was sure she hadn't heard it before, anywhere.

Perhaps it was something she had heard in one of the many inns the Company had stopped in along the journey. Something a bard had sung, and something that she had only heard once. The words were simple enough that she could remember after only hearing the song once.

It was something about the person singing having a feeling that the night would be a good one.

An odd song, indeed, and Dwalin had given her a strange look when she had sung the words for him.

"Where did you hear something like that" he had asked.

Cheyanne could only shake her head in response, because she truly had no idea.

She had decided that sitting in the library, which she had been working hard on restoring with the help of volunteers, had gone on long enough for one day, and she had requested that she and Dwalin take a walk. As her personal guard, Dwalin had gone along with her to the main hall, but had since wandered off to talk to Dwarves he recognized, and the guards standing by the main doors.

Some of the Dwarves in the main hall were returning from Dale, others were heading down to the mines for work. Any who passed her were sure to give her a respectful word or bow or curtsy, and Cheyanne responded with the appropriate head nod.

The Dwarves she was curious about the most, however, was the group of Dwarrowdams that were gathered near a stairwell. They were all laughing and talking amongst themselves. One had a woven basket in hand, filled with what looked to be un-dyed fabric.

Cheyanne watched them, as they started up the stairs, still talking and laughing. She glanced towards where Dwalin had wandered off to and saw he was talking to a lovely older Dwarrowdam, making her smile.

Cheyanne bit her lip, and glanced towards the stairs again. The group of female Dwarves had disappeared.

Cheyanne picked up her skirt and went across the main hall towards the stairwell. As she reached the top, panting, she could hear the sound of singing, the words in Khuzdul. She tilted her head and started to make her way down the hall in the direction of the singing.

A young Dwarrowdam came out of one of the rooms along the hallway, a pot in her hands, and her eyes widened when she recognized Cheyanne.

"My Queen!" she exclaimed, starting to curtsy. Cheyanne held up her hand.

"It's all right. What's going on up here?" she queried, doing her best to sound curious but regal at the same time.

The Dwarrowdam straightened, a small smile gracing her features. "We're setting dye to wool," she explained. "We like to sing while we do it. It helps to keep the beat we use." The Dwarrowdam switched her pot to her other arm. "My name is Gin."

"Good to meet you, Gin," Cheyanne answered. "The singing is smart."

"Aye." Gin tilted her head. "Would you like to come see how it's done, my Queen? If you're not busy, of course."

Cheyanne shook her head. "I'm interested, and I climbed those steps. I might as well."

"Come," Gin said, leading the way down the hall. Cheyanne followed, and Gin rounded the corner into a small apartment, probably her own.

As soon as Cheyanne entered the room, where at least ten Dwarrowdams were seated around a wooden table, their singing silenced, and they looked at her in surprise.

"You all know the Queen," Gin said, setting her pot down on the edge of the table. "This is our dyeing group," she said to Cheyanne.

"Hello," Cheyanne greeted, dipping her head.

"The Queen was curious about our dyeing process," Gin explained.

This sent a wave of relief over the group, and the Dwarrowdams murmured to themselves in Khuzdul. Gin gestured to the ring of blue wool, and Cheyanne watched as the Dwarves closest to her helped her pour the yellow liquid from the pot all over it.

Cheyanne wrinkled her nose. "Pungent," she commented. "That… can't be…"

Gin smiled at her. "Piss. Helps to set the dye quicker."

Cheyanne nodded in understanding, though her nose remained wrinkled. Gin took a seat on one of the stools around the table. She began then began to beat her section of wool against the table, brushing it away from her and then shifting it to her left. The others followed her lead, each brushing it forward along the wood and then turning the whole thing to the left.

After a few moments of doing this in silence, Gin began to sing. The others repeated her words back to her, like a chant, though it was a tune. It was in Khuzdul, of course, but Cheyanne knew it well. It was a drinking song.

 _"Hey ho! To the bottle I go_

 _To heal my heart and drown my woe_

 _Rain may fall and wind may blow_

 _But there still be_

 _Many miles to go_

 _Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain_

 _And the stream that falls_

 _From hill to plain_

 _Better than rain or rippling brook!_

 _One last drink and I'm off the hook!"_

The song started to repeat, and Cheyanne took a step forward, sitting down on an empty stool. She rolled back the sleeves on her dress and started to beat the wool in the same way the Dwarrowdams were, picking up the tune and the words for herself as well, until she was just another part of the group.

Her help seemed to be welcome, and the Dwarrowdams smiled at her as she sang and beat her wool. She was enjoying herself, despite the fact she was touching piss-drenched wool. It was, after all, something that came out of everybody.

When the excess urine had all dried up, the Dwarrowdams fingered the wool for a moment before Gin shook her head. "It needs another pot and a few more rounds of song," she announced. "Time to drink?"

The others called their agreement, and Gin rose and went to pour some wine. There was a baby's cry from a room nearby, and another Dwarrowdam rose to retrieve it. Cheyanne watched as she reemerged with a wrapped bundle in her arms.

"He's hungry," she said to Gin, who sighed and offered Cheyanne the glass of wine she had poured before wiping off her hands once more and taking the bundle from the other Dwarrowdam. She murmured soothing coos to it in Khuzdul, and then looked at Cheyanne.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked.

"Not at all," Cheyanne answered. "He needs to be fed, and there's only one way to do that."

Gin gave her a grateful smile and lowered the bosom of her dress. Almost at once, the little Dwarf began to nurse, making contented smacking sounds as he did so.

"What's his name?" Cheyanne asked, taking a drink of her wine. _Whoo_ , it was strong.

Gin gazed down at her baby, grinning. "Turec, after his father." Her smile faded and she closed her eyes for a moment. Cheyanne immediately felt sorry for asking.

"How do you like the wine, my Queen?" one of the Dwarrowdams asked her, breaking the silence.

Cheyanne smiled. "Just Cheyanne, please. It's very good."

Several minutes passed as the other Dwarrowdams all received some wine of their own and they drank their fill.

"Well, that's enough of that," Gin announced, pulling her dress back up. "To much more and he'd suck me dry." She looked at Cheyanne. "How'd you like to get another piece of dyeing information?" Cheyanne lifted her eyebrow, and Gin nodded to the pot. "Our piss."

Cheyanne's eyes went wide, and one of the others chuckled. "What do you think the wine break is for?" she asked.

Cheyanne had to laugh. "Well," she commented, setting her glass down and going over to the pot. "Right now?" she asked, glancing around.

"We're not watching," Gin promised, turning her back.

"All right, then," Cheyanne said as the others did the same. She began to hike up her skirt and squat down.

"Augh! Mahal's beard, what are ye doin'?" Her head shot up, as did she, at Dwalin's voice, and she found herself looking guiltily at her supposed-to-be guard, wringing her hands. "I turn away for two minutes and I find ye pissing in a pot!" he exclaimed.

"I-it's for the wool," Cheyanne began, and Dwalin shook his head.

"Come on, Your Majesty. The King will have my head if he finds out I let ye get away from me."

Cheyanne sighed and glanced at the Dwarrowdams. "Thank you for letting me help," she said, walking over to Dwalin. "I wish I could stay for the whole thing."

"Maybe some other time," Gin answered, watching Dwalin closely as he placed a hand on Cheyanne's back and ushered her out of the room and towards the stairs.

"What in the world were you thinking?" he demanded once they were out of earshot of the females, "running away from me like that? You have wine on your breath and ye reek like piss."

"Well, that makes two of us, doesn't it?" Cheyanne retorted, pushing him away from her and hurrying down the stairs.

"Hey," Dwalin called, and she halted in the middle of the stairwell, her fists clenched at her sides. Dwalin came up behind her and let out a breath. "I'm sorry, lass. You scared me, is all. I didn't know where you'd gone, and if you'd been lost in these halls -"

"Everyone knows who I am, Dwalin," she said, turning around to face him. "I'm sure that if I were to get lost, and a search party was sent out, whoever found the party would lead them to me."

"All the same, Thorin would know I'd lost ye, and I doubt he'd forgive me."

" _I_ left _you_."

"Thorin would not see it that way, and we both know it."

She stared at him for moment longer before snorting and continuing down the stairs, Dwalin close behind. "I don't understand why he's made you my personal guard," she muttered. "Surely you're better off doing something important."

"Protecting you is the most important job to Thorin," Dwalin told her. "You know that." They reached the main hall again, and Cheyanne paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to face Dwalin, who gave her a worried look. "What is it?"

"Dwalin… if I tell you something… will you promise not to say anything about it to anyone?" she began slowly. If Dwalin was her personal guard, and his job was to protect her at all costs, then maybe he was the one to tell about her dreams.

Dwalin's brows came together, and he shook his head. "If it concerns your safety…"

Cheyanne glanced over her shoulder towards the busy main hall, and then back at him. "Not here," she said. "Come on."

She led him across the hall and towards the throne room, and the stairwells that would take them up to the King and Queen's Royal Apartment It was under renovation, because she was finally getting her window, but it was private enough, and she didn't trust the news of her dreams around anyone but Dwalin.

She hoped that by telling someone about them, that maybe it would calm her mind, and make her dreams less ominous and dark. Even if Dwalin had to tell Thorin, at least she wouldn't need to see the worry in his eyes when the King heard his Queen's nightmares had returned.

Dwalin didn't argue as she dragged him up the stairs behind her and pulled him to a halt in the room off the main parlor of the Apartment that Thorin had cleared out to turn into the room for his instruments. She shut the door, blocking the sounds of male Dwarves talking and hammers pounding, and she turned to look at Dwalin.

"What is it?" he asked her.

She let out a breath. "You know those dreams that I used to have? About… about…" She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. She hated speaking about it, because it was so terrible. "You know."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed. His tone had gone soft, and she opened her eyes to see he was watching her, his own worried. "Cheyanne…"

"They went away for a good long while once I was able to sleep with Thorin again, but… they're coming back, and they're worse than they were before." Cheyanne flinched and shook her head. "I don't know what to do about it."

"Lass, we need to tell Thorin."

"I won't. Can't. He has too much to worry about already, with all the work that's being done to the mountain. Dwalin, he has a lot on his mind, and this will only make it worse."

Dwalin stared at her for a moment. "Can't ye at least… ask Oin for some kind of something that will help with them?" he asked at last. "Please?"

"Do you think there is something?" Cheyanne hadn't even considered the possibility.

"If anyone knows, it will be Oin. Talk to him, lass. For Thorin's sake, as well as your own," Dwalin said.

Cheyanne sighed and nodded. It was as good a try as any. "Fine," she said to Dwalin. "I'll speak with Oin.

"Thank you. If he doesn't find something that helps, will ye tell Thorin then? You know I don't like keeping secrets from him."

Cheyanne gazed at him for a moment before giving him a short nod. "All right, Dwalin," she agreed. "But only if Oin can't help."

Dwalin hesitated a moment, and then he nodded as well. "It's almost lunch time," he said when Cheyanne turned away from him. "Thorin wanted to eat with you today."

"Then we best not keep the King waiting," Cheyanne answered. "Come on, Guard."

Dwalin let out a breath as Cheyanne tugged open the door and brushed out of the room. Why did she feel it necessary to tell him her problems when she knew that he couldn't keep them from Thorin?

Now he had a choice to make - keep her secret, or tell Thorin so that he wouldn't have to worry when Cheyanne woke from a bad dream?

Dwalin cursed to himself as he hurried after the Queen. No sense in letting her wander off again.

* * *

Bilbo read the last page of his book, and then snapped it shut. As soon as he did, he grumbled to himself and tossed the book onto the increasingly-rising stack of finished ones.

"Just as bad as the others," he muttered, standing up from his arm chair. He paced across his study and peered out the window that showed him the front walk. It was empty, and only green grass and blue sky and white clouds waited for him outside.

The Hobbit sniffed and retreated back to his armchair. He sat down for approximately three seconds before he bounced back up to his feet.

"I should check the sapling," he decided, turning tail and scurrying towards the rear door of Bag End. He bustled outside, humming to himself as he walked along the path that was lined with his precious flowers, to the top of the hill, where he had planted his acorn.

What he had called his sapling really wasn't a sapling at all. It was a single green stem that rose about four inches out of the dirt. Still, it was growing, and Bilbo was happy. He wanted to see the tree grow to it's full height, and be the most glorious thing in his garden.

"Bilbo Baggins! What are you doing up there?"

He turned abruptly at the sound of his name and looked down into his front yard. Gandalf the Grey was standing before the door, looking up at him.

Bilbo grinned widely, and waved. "I was checking on my sapling!" he called down to the wizard. "I'll be down in a moment!"

The Hobbit hurried down the path and through Bag End to get to the front door. He pulled it open and gave Gandalf a big hug. The wizard seemed a little shocked by the intensity of it, but he chuckled nonetheless and placed an affectionate hand on the Hobbit's head.

"It is good to see you, too," he said, smiling.

Bilbo pulled him into Bag End, and Gandalf hit his head on the chandelier. He grunted, but Bilbo paid no mind.

"How did you trip to Rivendell go? Did you run into any vagabonds? Would you like some tea?"

"One question at a time, Bilbo, please," Gandalf urged, allowing the Hobbit to lead him into the kitchen. "My goodness, you would think I was gone for two years rather than four months."

"I just want to know how your journey went," Bilbo said. Gandalf sat down in a chair, and the Hobbit disappeared into a pantry, reemerging a moment later with a tray of cookies. He placed them on the table and went to prepare a pot of tea. "Did Elrond say anything about the wedding?"

 _Ah, so that is what this is about_ , Gandalf realized.

"Lord Elrond did not attend the wedding," he said to the Hobbit.

"Oh," Bilbo said. His eyebrows drew together in concern, and he frowned to himself as he watched the fire underneath his teapot.

"Have you not written to Cheyanne yourself?" Gandalf queried, inspecting one of the cookies.

Bilbo shook his head. "Oh no," he said. "I couldn't, not after how I said no to attending the wedding. She must be angry with me, and I don't want…" Bilbo trailed off, and looked at Gandalf. "Have you heard from them at all?"

Gandalf nodded. "Lord Elrond received a thank you note from Thorin for the gifts he had sent." The wizard watched Bilbo put three tea leaves into the pot before closing the lid. "It seems the couple is happy. Cheyanne is fixing up Erebor's library."

At this, Bilbo smiled. "She would, wouldn't she?" he asked Gandalf. "She loves books, just like me." He exhaled. "Gandalf, I… I want to go visit them."

"Do you?" Gandalf asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I miss them, and I am bored here," Bilbo explained to him. "I've read the books in my own library twice, and I'm running out of ways to entertain myself."

"Bilbo, are you saying that you want to go on another adventure?" Gandalf queried, smiling.

Bilbo turned around, the teapot in hand, and he nodded. "I believe I am."

Gandalf couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh. It was about time.

"Well then," he said, standing. "I have preparations to make for such a journey. We will be needing a horse and a pony, as well as provisions." He faced the Hobbit, and gave him a reassuring nod. "We will set out within the week, Bilbo."

"For Erebor," Bilbo agreed, grinning to himself.

A visit is just what I need. I won't stay long. I just want to see them, and congratulate Cheyanne and Thorin.

Gandalf exited Bag End, chuckling quietly to himself. It seemed he had made the right decision, going to Bag End that day. Bilbo had come to his senses, and just in time, too.

A darkness had shadowed Gandalf's thoughts that surrounded Cheyanne, meaning only bad things were to come, or had already arrived. What they were, he did not know, but he hoped that Bilbo would be able to help her when they came.

Gandalf hoped that he would be able to help her. After all, he had brought her to Middle-earth in the first place -

The wizard stopped dead in his tracks as a dark thought fell onto him.

He inhaled.

"No," he said softly. "It cannot be."

But it was, and he could feel it. Cheyanne's memories were becoming tangled, just as he feared they would. He had hoped that his capabilities would prevent it from happening, but it seemed as though his hopes had not been enough.

He knew it, now, for certain. Cheyanne's memories were being twisted, and it was happening in her dreams. He knew, now, that he and Bilbo needed to get to Erebor as soon as possible, so Gandalf could stop the memories in their tracks, before they became too real.

If they did, and Cheyanne began to remember her other life…

Gandalf shook his head at the thought. Only bad things, indeed.

* * *

 **A couple of references to other media in this chapter. Let's see... there's the scene inspired by _Outlander_ involving the dyeing process... there's the song, which is actually a Tolkien song that I revised a bit to make it fit... and there's the line from _Jonah: A VeggieTales Movie._**

 **So much good stuff to be borrowed from! I love it all so incredibly much, and I love my brain for unconsciously throwing lines like the _Jonah_ one in at random points.  
**

 **And, of course, any of the writings that are inspired by or taken from other things totally and completely belong to their original creators. I just like to borrow things sometimes because I like shouting out people who are better than me.**

 **You go, other guys!**


	10. At the Sign of Acceptance

**Guest: Hello, friend! Thank you for the question.** **Actually, when I was first started the original Fiction, I looked up Hobbit-based names, and Cheyanne was the first one I found that sounded good. Also the first one that I could make a ship name out of with Thorin's name. :]**

 **I wrote thi chapter a few days ago as a sort of bridge to the rest of the Fiction, and to show how Cheyanne's trying to settle into her role as Queen. Hopefully, it isn't too boring.**

 **I promise that the fun stuff starts next chapter.**

 **Well, not fun, persé...**

 **The plot starts to rise next chapter. Let's go with that.**

* * *

"Queen Cheyanne, do we have a place for books about the past kings?" One of the Dwarves that was volunteering to fix the library with her appeared with several different tomes in hand.

"Not just yet, Leko," Cheyanne answered. "If you want, you can go through the pile of books we haven't sorted through yet, and find other ones like that, and then claim a shelf."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Leko responded, and then he hurried off towards the big pile of non-burnt books that they had recovered from the remains of the library. Other Dwarves were sorting through it already, separating books into piles based on their genres. Even more Dwarves were carrying the separated books away towards the designated bookshelves for the specific genres.

Cheyanne smiled to herself as she watched all of this happening, and she looked down at her list of accounted for books. The number of titles that hadn't been found was a lot bigger than she would have liked it to be. It made her sad that so many had been destroyed.

Still, out of the ashes of the old library was growing a grander new one. Complete with entirely new bookshelves and rugs, as well as plush armchairs and lounges alike, Cheyanne had a feeling that, when the library was completed, she would be spending a lot of her time there.

Until then, however, she was overseeing its repair, and it was looking extremely good.

"Queen Cheyanne?" She looked up from her list, and smiled when she saw her favorite volunteer standing on the other side of the table she was seated at.

"Yes, Gimli?" she asked the young, red-headed Dwarf.

"I found a book that doesn't fit any of the genres," he said, looking down at the book in his hands.

Cheyanne struggled to keep from laughing. This was the third time today Gimli had come to tell her a book didn't fit into any of the genres, even though he knew perfectly well that those books belonged in the "Yet to Be Decided" pile. Cheyanne had a feeling there was reasoning behind Gimli's repeated question, and it had something to due with the fact that the young Dwarf fancied her.

"You know where those go," she told him. "Remember? The pile of books that don't have a specific genre."

Gimli smiled sheepishly. "You're right. Sorry, Your Majesty." He shuffled off towards the pile, and Cheyanne shook her head to herself with a smile before looking down at her parchment again.

Balin had suggested she spend the day working on the library rather than sit in court with Thorin for the entire morning, and well into the afternoon. Cheyanne hadn't wanted to leave Thorin alone to deal with court on his own, but the King agreed that Balin's idea was the better one. So, here she was, seeing after her pet project while her husband was sitting in his hard throne and listening to their people's problems, deciding whether or not to help them, or grant them their wishes.

Cheyanne almost felt bad for him, but it was a kingly duty that he had agreed to take on when he took his oath.

She reached for one of the books that she had brought to the desk, and glanced over the title before shifting her attention to her list. Balin had kept a very good record of all the books that had been in the library prior to Smaug's attack. Sorting through what remained allowed her to mark down what books they still had, and what books had perished. Most of the fiction titles were still intact, as were many on the history of the Dwarves.

Books on the line of Durin itself, however, had been very rare. The one Leko had found and showed her was only the fifth or sixth that had been recovered, out of an original count of 38. Smaug really did not like the Durin line.

Cheyanne finished writing down the book title, and reached for the next one on her stack. As she did so, she yawned widely, and then glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. None of the Dwarves working around the desk were looking at her, and Cheyanne was relieved. The last thing she needed then was one of her volunteers asking if she was getting enough rest. That could start rumors.

Cheyanne couldn't help but smile at the rumors it would probably start, and then she scolded herself and went back to her task.

Fili ducked beneath the ruined lounge a pair of Dwarves was carrying out of the library. When he was inside the large room, he immediately spotted Cheyanne sitting at her table, writing. He inhaled and made his way across the library to her, making sure to return all respectful bows that were sent his way as he did so with head nods.

When he reached Cheyanne's table, he rested his elbows on the edges of it. Cheyanne looked up from her work. "Yes, Fili?" she inquired.

"How does lunch sound?" the prince queried in response.

"Lovely, but I was going to eat in here so I could finish marking recovered books," Cheyanne responded, gesturing to her parchment.

Fili sighed. "You've spent every waking minute of your time here in the library," he said in disdain. "Make room for fun."

"This is fun," Cheyanne answered. She looked around at all of her volunteers doing their jobs, and smiled. "I like this. It makes me feel as though I'm actually Queen. I'm helping my people."

"And helping your people means you can't eat lunch with your favorite nephew?" Fili asked her.

Cheyanne watched him for a moment, and Fili gave her his most dashing smile. She snorted. "I never said you were my favorite."

"Oh, please," Fili said with a snort of his own. "Between me and Kili?"

"I love your brother, too," Cheyanne informed him.

"Sure, but you love me more," Fili retorted, leaning away from the table. Cheyanne gazed at him, and he gestured with his head. "Come on. It's just with me and my mother."

"Dis, too?" Fili nodded, and Cheyanne glanced upwards. She seemed to consider it for a moment, and then she sighed. "All right, fine," she agreed. "Hold on."

She rose from her chair. "I believe we've all earned ourselves a break," she called to her volunteers, who all turned to her as soon as she spoke. "Please, take and hour or two to yourselves. We'll come back afterwards."

No one seemed too bothered by the idea of a break. In fact, most of the volunteers dashed out of the library as soon as Cheyanne had given them permission. The Queen was clearly amused by this, and she chuckled as Fili lead her out of the library and towards where Dis would be eating with them.

"You would think I'm wearing them out," she commented. "And yet, we've been at this for two months, and I feel as though we aren't even close to being finished."

Fili smiled to himself. "So, you are wearing them out," he told her, and Cheyanne gave him a dry look in response.

Fili led her through the mountain towards a region she had not yet explored. Dwalin, who had been posted somewhere in the library where he wouldn't disturb her, trailed the two at a respectful distance. Having him around at all times wasn't as strange as Cheyanne had thought it would be. In fact, Dwalin's presence everywhere she went was comforting.

He was still the only one she had told about her dreams. That probably had something to do with it.

"Here we are," Fili said, and the Dwarven guard next to the door he had stopped her in front of pulled it open. Instead of being met with a parlor, however, they are met by a gust of air. Cheyanne blinked in amazement as Fili led her out onto a balcony built into the side of the mountain.

"Wow," she said, looking around. It was a balcony, but there was a table set up in one corner, complete with lunch. The balcony itself overlooked one of the plains beyond Erebor, and Cheyanne noticed a flock of ravens sitting in the midst of it. They all flew away when something within the tall grass disturbed them. The flock rose into the air, cawing.

"I didn't know we had a balcony," she commented to Fili.

"It's sort of Mother's secret spot," he admitted, leading her over to the table. He pulled out a chair for her, and Cheyanne sat down in it. She gave Fili a smile as he took his own seat.

"Where is your mother?" she asked him.

"She's on her way," he responded. "She told me that if I found you first that we could start without her."

"That doesn't seem very polite," Cheyanne said, frowning. She relaxed back into her chair. "I'll wait."

"Aw, c'mon, Chey," Fili groaned, sinking down into his own chair. "I'm starving."

"I didn't say you had to wait," Cheyanne said.

"No, but I can't eat if you don't. You're the Queen," Fili grumbled. He gazed at the array of food before him on the table, including the steel pot of steaming rabbit stew. He then spotted the bowl of rolls, and he grinned to himself. "Chey? How about a roll?"

"No, Fili," Cheyanne said. "I'm waiting for your mother."

"Maybe two?" Fili reached into the bowl and took out two, and then dropped them neatly into Cheyanne's lap.

"Fili!" Cheyanne exclaimed. He was already dropping more, however, and the rolls went bouncing off of her lap and onto the balcony. She glared at him as Fili sat back in his chair and smiled politely. "That was unnecessarily rude," she told him, then climbed out of her chair to retrieve the wasted rolls.

"Oh, come on. It's just a bit of fun," Fili argued. Cheyanne didn't stop picking up the rolls, and Fili sighed. "Let me do it."

He climbed from his chair to join her on the ground. They ended up reaching for the same roll, their fingers brushing. Cheyanne glanced up at the same time Fili did, and their gazes met.

Cheyanne let out a breath and snatched up the roll, pulling her eyes away. "Don't."

"Chey -"

"Fili, stop," she warned, rising to a standing position. "You… I know what that look means, and you can't… you can't be like that with me."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Fili said, standing as well. Cheyanne watched as he set the rolls he'd picked up down on the table, and then reached for her own to do the same with them. He then turned to face her again, taking her hands in his. "I just…"

"Well, I apologize for making the two of you wait." Cheyanne pulled her hands out of Fili's as Dis walked out onto the balcony, reading a letter she was carrying. "I was busy with some of the miners, and when they heard I was having lunch with Cheyanne, they wanted to know how you were feeling, and other such nonsense." The Dwarrowdam looked up from her correspondence, and frowned at the pile of rolls. "What happened here?"

"The bowl fell off the table," Cheyanne replied quietly, not looking at Fili. She sat down in her chair again, and Fili did the same after a moment.

"Shame," Dis said. "Rabbit stew is no good without a roll or two. Should I send for more?"

"Only if you want them," Cheyanne said, smiling.

Dis sighed, and took her seat at the table. "Never mind, then." She looked at Cheyanne as the lady's maid that had been following her reached for the steaming pot to pour everyone some of the stew that was inside. "I asked to eat with you today, because I feel like we haven't spoken much since the wedding."

"I've been busy," Cheyanne admitted, giving Dis's lady's maid a grateful smile as she poured some stew into her bowl. "I imagine you have been as well."

"I doubt as busy as you," Dis responded. She raised an eyebrow as she gazed at Cheyanne from across the table. "Rebuilding Erebor's library is no small task."

Cheyanne simply shrugged. "A task I was more than happy to take on. I love books."

"Yes, and Erebor's citizens love you," Dis told her.

Cheyanne paused in reaching for her silver spoon, and she met Dis's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that every single Dwarf that I have spoken to about you have only had nice things to say," Dis answered. She looked at Fili. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," the prince confirmed. He glanced at Cheyanne, and their gazes met again. "Everyone loves you," he said to her.

Cheyanne forced herself to look away and back at Dis, who, thankfully, had turned her attention to her lunch. "I've been doing my best to make everyone like me," she said.

"Well, it's working," Dis informed her. "Plus, you have the added bonus of being Queen next to Thorin, and everybody loves my brother." The Dwarrowdam waved her hand. "You know that, already."

"Thorin is a great king," Cheyanne said. "He has done much for his people. He deserves their affection."

"And you deserve theirs, for saving his life," Dis concluded. She glanced over her shoulder. "Did you want to ask Dwalin if he wanted to eat something? I noticed him standing outside."

"Yes, that's a good idea," Cheyanne agreed. Dis nodded to her lady's maid, who went to retrieve Dwalin, and the Queen shook her head. "He's been very… removed, lately."

"How so?" Dis inquired, salting her stew.

"I don't know, he's just… he's kept his distance more, is acting more like a guard than a close friend," Cheyanne explained, watching Dwalin walk onto the balcony. "I don't understand why."

"Ah, Dwalin," Dis greeted, gesturing to the fourth chair at the table. "Sit down and eat something."

Dwalin looked at Cheyanne, and she nodded to give him permission. Immediately, Dwalin plunked down in the chair and reached for the stew pot. Dis and Cheyanne exchanged amused glances while Fili watched Dwalin pour the remainder of the stew into his bowl.

"Where's Kili?" Cheyanne asked. "I would have thought he'd eat with us as well."

"Kili's Elf is in Dale," Fili said, turning his gaze to his own stew.

"Oh, I see." Cheyanne glanced at Dis. She had never really seen her reaction to Kili's affections for Tauriel. Dis didn't seem to be bothered much by it, although Cheyanne had a feeling that Dis wasn't completely fine with the relationship. But, Cheyanne supposed, there was decades of distrust between Dwarves and Elves. Any disagreements Dis had with the relationship of her son to the Elf was based purely on past grievances.

Cheyanne decided that continuing the conversation about Kili and Tauriel would be a poor choice, and so she moved on to something else. "Dwalin," she started, looking at him. He glanced up from his stew, and she tilted her head. "How's Balin been? I haven't seen him since last week's council meeting."

The council met every two weeks to discuss matters of importance. It was made up of several of the most distinguished Dwarves in Erebor, and ones with certain skill sets that allowed them to be in charge of certain things. There was a head of the Erebor guard, head of the mines, head of the rebuild process… all reported to Balin, and Balin reported to Thorin when the council meeting wasn't being held.

"He's fine," Dwalin rumbled in response to Cheyanne's question concerning his brother. "Busy, but he likes being busy."

Dis smiled to herself. "That he does." She looked across the table at Fili. "Have you been going to any of the court sessions?" she asked him.

"One or two a week," Fili replied without glancing up from his food. "Why? It doesn't matter much - Thorin and Cheyanne will have many children, if the Valar are good."

"It's still good for you to understand the process," Dis responded. "If something were to happen, and no one else was available, court would fall onto your shoulders."

"It's not a difficult one," Fili said. "You sit in the throne and decide whether or not to grant requests."

Dis looked at Cheyanne, who was watching Fili. The young prince seemed to have lost his earlier jubilance, and the Queen had a feeling that she was the cause.

Still… whatever affections the prince felt for her would have to be left unrequited. The only person she felt that way about was Thorin, and he was the only one she had ever felt that way about. Fili would find someone else. He had too. He was a handsome young Dwarf, and part of the royal family. No doubt any Dwarrowdam in Erebor would love to hold his affections.

Cheyanne, however, did not, and she hoped she had made so clear.

"Cheyanne." She blinked when Dis said her name, and glanced at her. "Are you all right?" Dis asked, looking concerned.

"Fine," Cheyanne answered without looking at Dwalin. "I'm fine."

Lunch after that was more of a quiet affair, when most of the participants could make it so. Dis, who was extremely insightful, could tell there were things bothering all three of her eating companions. She didn't know what the troublesome things were, nor did she try to pry them out. Instead, she did her best to carry on simple conversations. Cheyanne had responses for her, but Fili and Dwalin remained fairly silent for the rest of the meal.

When the food was gone, Cheyanne and Dwalin parted from the balcony first, Cheyanne wanting to get back to the library before any of the volunteers did. Dis and Fili remained at the table for another few minutes, before the prince cleared his throat and started to rise.

"Hold on," Dis said to him before he could get far. Fili inhaled, and Dis crossed her arms over her chest. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," Fili mumbled. "Everything's perfect."

"Your disposition says otherwise." Fili didn't sit back down, and Dis exhaled. "Fili, I want you to remember that I'm your mother. I am here to help you with your problems."

Fili kept his gaze ahead for a moment longer, and then his shoulders rose and fell. He glanced down at his mother, and smiled slightly.

"I know," he said. "This is just something you can't help me with."

Dis gazed at him for a moment. "All right," she replied at last. "Just… don't let it control you, whatever it is."

Fili nodded, and then he leaned down and placed a kiss on his mother's cheek. "Lunch was good," he told her. He then turned and exited the balcony, leaving Dis to rest her elbow on the edge of the table and press her hand against her forehead.

"I used to know everything," she murmured to herself, "and now I know nothing."

Cheyanne and Dwalin were busy making their way back to the library. Dwalin kept his eyes straight ahead, and Cheyanne looked up at him more than once, wanting him to say something.

"Dwalin," she finally said.

"Hmm?"

"Talk to me, please."

He finally, finally looked down at her. "About what?"

"Anything." She paused. "Well, maybe not anything…"

"Oin hasn't come back with anything." She glanced at him, and saw he was back to gazing straight ahead.

Cheyanne let out a breath and shook her head. "No," she agreed, "he hasn't."

"So you're going to tell Thorin soon, then?" Dwalin inquired.

Cheyanne glanced around for a moment, watching as a young Dwarf trotted after his mother down a set of stairs. "No," she said again. "I'm not."

"Cheyanne -"

"I know," she said quickly, cutting him off, "and I'm sorry, but… I don't want to worry him. You understand that, don't you?"

"Cheyanne, you are his wife."

"And he is a king," she retorted, glancing up at Dwalin again. "He has bigger things to fret over." She lowered her gaze as the neared the doors of the library. "As do I."

What Dwalin did not know was that the dreams were getting worse. They were not longer simply nightmares. Cheyanne was now waking up from them disoriented and confused, and it took her a few moments to remember where she was. It as terrifying, and she had every reason to tell Thorin about it. She just couldn't.

The rest of the day passed. Cheyanne got through the pile of books that needed to be marked down, and her volunteers had started a seventh bookshelf entirely for fictional tomes. When she decided that it was late enough to release them for the day, Cheyanne rose from her chair at the table and called for everyone's attention.

It elated her when all of the Dwarves stopped whatever they were doing and looked at her. She really felt like a queen when she was able to get their attention so easily.

"The King and I thank you for all the hard work you put in today," she told them. "We'll be continuing the process of putting the books on shelves tomorrow, right after breakfast. Please, have a good rest of your evening."

Happy murmuring returned from the Dwarves, and they all collectively bowed or curtsied to her before shuffling out of the library. Cheyanne could hear exclamations from them as they walked outside, and she frowned in confusion.

Dwalin walked towards her, an arm reaching behind him to grab an axe. The last of the volunteers left, and Cheyanne relaxed immediately when she saw Thorin walk into the library. Dwalin dropped his arm.

"How was it today?" Thorin asked, walking over to where they stood beside the table. Cheyanne merely beamed at him, and the King chuckled. "That's good."

"Look!" Cheyanne exclaimed, darting around him towards the completed bookshelves. "There are so many fiction books, Thorin."

The King continued to smile as he walked over to join her. "It is impressive," he commented, running a hand across the spines of a few books on one shelf. "I'm glad that you're doing this. The library was always a favorite of the Erebor citizens."

Here, Cheyanne lost her grin and actually frowned. "A lot of the books were lost, though," she sighed. She led Thorin back over to the table and picked up her list. "See? These are all the books that were supposed to be in the library. The ones that I put a mark next to are the ones we've found."

Thorin examined the list for a moment, and then he shook his head and set it back down on the table. "Unfortunately, leather and parchment is not very durable against dragon fire."

"Not much is," Cheyanne agreed quietly.

A short silence lasted between the two of them, and Dwalin grew uncomfortable rather quickly. He cleared his throat, and both the King and Queen glanced at him.

"I think Balin mentioned something about supper?" he queried, tilting his head.

"Yes, he did," Thorin responded, giving him a grateful nod. He looked back at Cheyanne. "Balin wants to eat with us this evening. In our Apartment."

"Why?" Cheyanne inquired, although she had a good idea. Thorin simply gave her a look, and the Hobbit exhaled. "Right, fine. That's fine. He doesn't have anything to complain about. Dis and Fili say everyone loves me."

"When did you see Dis and Fili?" Thorin asked, frowning. Cheyanne slid her arm through the crook of his elbow and they exited the library, Dwalin trailing after them.

"Dis invited Fili and I to lunch," she explained as the two Erebor guards that had accompanied Thorin to the library but remained outside joined Dwalin in following them.

"Ah," Thorin said. "Odd. She usually mentions something to me about such things ahead of time."

Cheyanne frowned to herself as she considered this, and then she shook away the conclusion that came to her mind about the surprise lunch. Fili wouldn't have asked Dis if Cheyanne could eat with them. That was taking it a step too far. It was simply a spur of the moment decision that Dis had made.

Wasn't it?

Dinner with Balin was filled with a lot more talking than lunch had been. Thorin had several stories about interesting requests that had come to him during court. Balin supported the tales, as he was always present at court, and he told Cheyanne that she would have lost her mind during that particular one.

"Some Dwarves don't understand certain things," he explained to her. "It comes with living in the mountains, away from everyone else."

When dinner was over, both Balin and Dwalin parted, Balin for his own apartment, and Dwalin for the apartment he had claimed across from the Royal Apartment. He took his job as personal guard to the Queen very seriously. Cheyanne had teased him about it once, saying that he could move into the Royal Apartment's extra bedchamber, but Dwalin had shook his head immediately at the idea.

"And not get any sleep from all the noise ye'll be making? No thank you, lass."

When the two brothers were gone, Cheyanne and Thorin shared amused looks.

"That wasn't terrible," Thorin said.

"No, definitely not as bad as I expected. I thought Balin would want a full scale report on everything every Dwarf said to me today," Cheyanne responded.

Thorin released a breath and crossed over to where she sat in an armchair before the fireplace of the main parlor. He crouched in front of the armchair. Meeting her gaze, he said, "He just wants to know that you're settling in as Queen."

"I am," Cheyanne assured. "Everyone seems to realize it, too." She frowned. "Aside from Balin."

"He will," Thorin promised, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. Cheyanne met his eyes, and the King smiled. "It has only been two months since we married."

"Funny how quickly it's gone by," Cheyanne said, gazing at him. "I barely noticed."

Thorin chuckled, and stood up. He leaned close and rested his forehead against hers. "Perhaps it's because nothing really changed," he said softly. His breath was warm against her cheeks, and Cheyanne swallowed, blinking. "I missed you today," Thorin went on, barely any space remaining between their mouths.

Cheyanne tilted her chin upwards to close the last bit of distance, and Thorin exhaled through his nose when their lips touched. Cheyanne reached her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, further removing any space between them.

"Bed," she urged between kisses. "Bed, now."

Thorin didn't argue, and Cheyanne slept soundly that night.


	11. Nightmares

**I'm not gonna lie to you guys.**

 **I really wanted this chapter to belong to a different part of the story, because the title I had in mind would have been so good. Unfortunately, because I am basing chapter titles off of LotR chapters... it can't happen.**

 **Oh well.**

 **This is sort of where the rising action actually picks up and starts to rock 'n' roll.**

* * *

Cheyanne cast an unimpressed look at her husband as the envoy from… somewhere, stood before the throne, asking that Erebor agree to a trade of sorts. What kind of trade…? Well, she'd stopped listening before he had said, but Thorin didn't look any more interested than she felt.

Thorin leaned back in his throne as the envoy went on and on, glancing first at Balin, who was seated to his left, and then at Dwalin, who was standing at the head of the row of soldiers at the bottom of the dais, baring the envoy from getting closer than he was.

Dwalin understood the look at once, and he nodded to a couple of the soldiers. They stepped forward and began to usher the envoy from the Great Hall, much to the Elf's annoyance.

"King Thorin! Do you not wish to hear what else we have to offer? We must be able to come to some sort of agreement -"

Thorin was done listening, and he drowned out the rest of the Elf's words as the soldiers pulled him down the stairs and out of the Great Hall entirely. Groaning, he ran a hand across his face and looked to his right. Cheyanne was leaning her elbow on the arm of her own mini-throne, her eyes closed.

"Long day of court," she commented, feeling his eyes on her.

"Mmm, you're lucky you don't sit through it three times a week as I do," Thorin answered with a short chuckle.

"Your Majesties." Balin rose from his chair and stretched. "Perhaps we should be getting to the council meeting."

"Lovely," Cheyanne sighed. "What are we discussing at this one?"

"Designs for the treasury rebuild," Balin answered. "Ori seems to think he has the doors perfect this time."

"That's what he said last week," Thorin mumbled, rising all the same. He offered his arm to Cheyanne, and she took it, giving him a small smile as the three of them walked down the dais to where Dwalin was waiting.

Thorin could feel her fatigue by the way she gripped at his arm for support. She hadn't been getting a full night's rest for almost three weeks, now. Thorin knew as much. Whatever spell had overtook her before their wedding had started to return.

When Dwalin had gingerly approached him with the information one morning before Cheyanne had awoken, Thorin had been angry. He'd demanded to know how long Dwalin had known, and why he hadn't said anything beforehand.

"She asked me not too, Thorin," Dwalin had explained. "I didn't know what to do about it, so I… I waited. She said they haven't gone away…"

"How long has she been having them?" Thorin had asked, his anger beginning to subside. He knew that Cheyanne placed a lot of her trust in Dwalin, and it must have been very hard for his friend to tell Thorin what she'd told him.

Dwalin lifted his shoulders. "Two weeks or so, I think. She didn't give me an exact amount." He glanced towards the closed door of the bedchamber the the King and Queen were using during their Apartment's renovation, and then turned back to Thorin. "I asked her to talk to Oin about something that might be able to help. You could talk to him about it."

Thorin did as Dwalin suggested, and Oin told him that Cheyanne had asked him to look into a special tea that would allow the drinker to sleep without dreaming. Oin had no notion as to where she had heard of such a thing, but he was doing his best to find something for her.

Thorin was grateful to Oin, but he knew his Queen needed something stronger than tea. Even a Hobbit could get sick of it after so long. And what if it wasn't potent enough to help her?

If it even existed at all.

Cheyanne's fingers tightening into his sleeve brought Thorin out of his lament. He looked down at her, and saw she was raising an eyebrow at him.

"I could hear you thinking," she said softly.

He offered a smile in response and leaned down to press a kiss against her head. "It was nothing," he said. "Do not worry about it."

"When you look as concerned as you just did, it's extremely hard for me to not worry," Cheyanne told him, frowning. "Do not lie, Thorin. What troubles you?"

Thorin merely shook his head, reaching down to fix her crown, which was lying tilted on her head. "I will speak with you later on the subject," he whispered. "I promise."

"If you two are done," Balin said grumpily from where he was a good ten paces ahead of them, "we should hurry."

"Must I go?" Cheyanne asked wearily, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She blinked up at Thorin. "I attended court with you."

"You did," Thorin said. He studied her for a moment longer and then sighed. "I suppose you may skip this council meeting." Cheyanne beamed, and he gestured for Dwalin. Cheyanne's personal guard sauntered over. "Make sure the Queen gets back to our chamber safely."

Dwalin nodded and moved forward to stand at Cheyanne's side. Thorin held onto her hand for a moment longer, and Cheyanne gave him a sweet smile. He could tell she was doing her best to hide her fatigue from him.

"Don't be long," she said, and then leaned up to speak in her ear: "It's high time we take another trip to _Shaluk Nûlukhulkhud_ , don't you think?"

Thorin gazed at her as she stepped back and winked before looking up at Dwalin. "Shall we go?"

Dwalin merely nodded, and Cheyanne led the way back towards the King and Queen's newly completed Royal Apartment. It would be their first night back in the chambers after the renovations, and she was looking forward to it.

"Have you gone to see it yet?" she asked Dwalin. "I haven't had time."

"If you haven't seen it, I haven't," Dwalin said with a shake of his head. "You know that."

"True enough," Cheyanne allowed. "I'm excited!"

"It was your idea," Dwalin reminded her.

"A necessary addition."

Dwalin chuckled and shook his head. "Whatever you say." Cheyanne didn't answer, and he looked down at her. "Lass?"

In response, she let out a quiet moan and started to fall. Dwalin was quick enough to grab her before she hit the floor, and he gave her a gentle shake. "Cheyanne? Chey!"

There was no use. She had fainted.

"Mahal's beard," he muttered to himself, glancing around. The hallway was empty, at least, so no one had seen the Queen collapse, but now he had to get her to her Apartment without anyone seeing.

He heard footsteps, and he quickly rotated Cheyanne and himself so that whoever it was that was coming wouldn't see her right away.

"Dwalin? What's - Chey!" It was Fili, and in a moment, the golden-haired prince was squatting on the floor beside the two of them, his hand pressed to the Queen's forehead. "What happened?"

"She just collapsed," Dwalin answered. "No one saw, but we need to move before someone else comes."

Fili glanced around for a moment before nodding. "All right, let's get her to my apartment. It's closer than hers and Thorin's."

Dwalin scooped Cheyanne up into his arms and rose, following Fili's lead down the hall. At the end, the prince halted and glanced around the corner in both directions before continuing on. If he hadn't had the unconscious Queen in his arms, Dwalin would have sworn he was sneaking around, hiding from Smaug again.

They made it to Fili's chambers without running into anyone else, and Fili quickly brushed away his blankets on his bed. Dwalin set Cheyanne down gently on the open spot, brushing her hair away from her face and removing her crown.

"Do you know why she fainted?" Fili asked him as Dwalin set the crown down on a table.

Dwalin hesitated, and then turned to face the prince. He was looking down at Cheyanne, one of her hands in his and the other hand resting on her forehead. He glanced over at Dwalin when he felt his gaze. "Do you?"

"I don't know if she would want me to tell you," Dwalin started. "She told me not to tell Thorin, but I did, because…" He trailed off and shook his head. "I should get Oin."

"No, don't do that." Cheyanne's eyelids were fluttering, and she managed to sit up and look at Dwalin. "I'm fine. Just… the exhaustion caught up with me."

Her eyes moved to Fili. "I've been having bad dreams again," she explained. "I haven't been sleeping very good because of them. No need to worry."

"No need to worry? You have to be kidding," Fili exclaimed. "You fainted in the middle of the hallway! What if someone had seen?"

Cheyanne merely rotated around on the bed and slid off of it, stumbling towards Fili as she did so. He caught her, and she glared at him for a moment before pushing away and straightening.

"I'm fine," she decided. "Dwalin, I want to go see my window."

"Shouldn't you rest a bit longer? Clearly, you need sleep," Dwalin said.

"I can't sleep!" Cheyanne shouted, stunning both Fili and Dwalin. She let out a long breath and clenched her fists at her sides. "I can't sleep," she repeated, more softly. "I can't. It's… it's too dangerous."

"What in Mahal's name are ya talking about, lass?" Dwalin demanded. "Dangerous? Getting no sleep is what's damaging to yer health, but dreams can't harm ye."

"Not… not that kind of dangerous, Dwalin." Cheyanne shook her head, and reached for her crown. She avoided their gazes as she placed it on her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" Fili grabbed her wrist before she could walk away from him and towards the door of his bedchamber. "Cheyanne, how could you even think that?" She wouldn't look at him, and so the prince stepped in front of her and took her chin in his hand. "You can trust us, Cheyanne," he told her. "I promise you. Please."

Cheyanne glanced at Dwalin for a moment, and then blinked a few times and raised her eyes to meet Fili's. "I've been waking up with no idea as to who Thorin is." Fili stared at her in shock, and she glanced away again. "I don't know who he is, and last night was the worst. I considered… I considered killing him, thinking that maybe he'd…"

Her eyes closed, and Fili pulled her to him in a hug. "It's all right," he soothed, looking up at Dwalin, who was staring at the Queen in utter dismay. "Do you know why?"

"In my dreams I'm always… in another place. A shop, with books upon books and… small rectangles that have… discs inside them. The people who come into the shop call them DVDs."

"Dee-vee-dees?"

Cheyanne nodded. "For some reason, I knew that already. I guess that when I wake up, I'm always confused as to why I'm not there," she said. "I don't know why _Thorin_ is sleeping in the bed next to me. It's like my dreams are supposed to be my real life, and I forget _this_ life because of it."

She lifted her head from where it rested on Fili's chest and looked at them both. "I think… I think that the dreams are… powerful. If I have too many more like them, I won't remember this life at all, and I'll do something bad."

"And that's why you're not sleeping," Dwalin concluded with a heavy sigh. "All right." He and Fili exchanged a glance. "That's it, then. It's time to tell Thorin everything."

"No!" Cheyanne exclaimed.

"Cheyanne, if these dreams are just as powerful as you believe, then you are dangerous, to yourself and to Thorin, and maybe to others," Dwalin insisted. "We need to tell him so he can give his idea on what to do."

"Cheyanne, if there's more, we need to know about it," Fili said gently.

Cheyanne swallowed thickly and shook her head.

"If I have to tell it, I'm only telling it once more," she grumbled. "We'll gather the whole Company and Dis tonight for supper, and I'll tell everyone then."

"The whole Company? Are you sure?" Dwalin asked.

Cheyanne nodded. "Out of everyone in Erebor, they're who I trust the most. If something were to happen where… I couldn't… come out of my bedchamber…"

"Don't start with that again," Dwalin sighed, coming forward and taking her hands. "Everything is going to be fine."

She swallowed, and looked at them both. "Tell those I mentioned that Thorin and I wish to have supper with them this evening in one of the small dining halls."

"I'll do it," Fili answered. "Quicker that way." He started for the door. "Don't leave her side," he said to Dwalin as he passed.

"Come on, lass," Dwalin said, beginning towards the door as well.

Cheyanne allowed him to lead her out of Fili's bedchamber and towards her own.

They walked to the Royal Apartment in silence, and Dwalin told her to sit down in one of the main parlor armchairs in front of the fireplace to wait for Thorin.

"I'll be in here when you tell him," he told her, "to help you if I can."

There was more to it, and Cheyanne understood. She bowed her head. "And to protect Thorin if necessary, right?" she whispered.

Dwalin decided not to reply.

Thorin arrived at the Royal Apartment shortly before supper, and he was surprised to find Cheyanne sitting and waiting for him, and not dressed for dinner.

"What's going on?" he asked, glancing between her and Dwalin, before focusing on his Queen.

Cheyanne exhaled, and gestured to the other armchair. Thorin frowned, more concerned than surprised now, but he sat in the armchair all the same.

When he was sitting, Cheyanne closed her eyes for a moment. "I fainted in the hallway," she said quietly.

"What? When?" Thorin demanded, glancing at Dwalin accusingly.

"No, don't blame Dwalin. If it hadn't been for him and Fili, one of the Dwarves could have seen," Cheyanne said, opening her eyes. She met Thorin's and he saw, not for the first time, just how exhausted she was. "My lack of sleep caught up with me."

"I know the nightmares have been bothering you again, but… are they really so bad as to not allow you any sleep at all?" Thorin asked her.

Cheyanne shook her head. "I can sleep; the nightmares only wake me up when they get really bad. I… _I've_ been keeping myself awake."

Thorin merely frowned. "Why?"

"Because…" Cheyanne hesitated, and looked at Dwalin, who nodded to her. The Queen looked back at Thorin. "My dreams aren't just nightmares. They're dreams of another life that I seem to be living, or did live." Thorin's brow furrowed, and Cheyanne shook her head. "I don't understand it either, Thorin. All I know is that the dreams are very potent, and every once in awhile, I'm confused when I wake up, because I think I'm supposed to be in that life." She frowned to herself. "It's been dangerous to you, and so I've tried to avoid sleeping, to avoid the dreams, and possibly harming you."

Thorin didn't know what to say. Cheyanne was dreaming of another life. The dreams were so strong that, even after she woke up, she believed that she still belonged in that life. And it threatened him?

He stared at her for a long time without speaking, and Cheyanne wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back in the armchair, yawning widely. Thorin watched this, and then he looked at Dwalin.

"Have you told anyone else?" he asked them both.

"No," Dwalin replied when Cheyanne didn't. "Fili is the only one other than the three of us that knows."

"I want to tell the Company, and Dis," Cheyanne mumbled. Thorin looked back at her, and she went on: "They deserve to know, and I trust all of them with the knowledge. I've asked Fili to tell them to dine with us in one of the smaller dining halls tonight."

"You will be dining with no one," Thorin decided. Cheyanne started at that, and she fixed him with a familiar, _Of course I am_ , look. Thorin shook his head. "You need to sleep, and I'm going to leave you alone to allow you to do that while I speak with the Company."

"But, Thorin -" Cheyanne cut off when she saw his expression, and she relaxed again. "Fine."

"Good." Thorin exhaled, and rose from his own armchair. "I must change."

"Fili should be coming here soon, to tell us he informed everyone," Dwalin said, following Thorin into the bedchamber. Neither of them noticed the big window that had been built in behind the canopied bed that showed a beautiful view of Dale and the Long Lake. The sun, setting in the distance, reflected off of it, making the waters appear fiery red.

"Very well. Get Cheyanne into bed as soon as you can once I leave, all right?" Thorin disappeared into the closet, and Dwalin let out a breath.

"Thorin… does this mean you won't be able to sleep with her anymore?" he asked gently.

There was no response from the closet, and Dwalin bowed his head before returning to the main parlor.

At suppertime, the Company had gathered in the dining hall that they had been told to come to for their meal. Dis was there as well, and she glanced around at her dining companions. They were all wondering the same thing, she was sure.

They wanted to know why this dinner had been called.

Balin seemed to be the most nervous. The older Dwarf was seated across from her at the table, and he was looking down at his plate, which was filled with only a small portion of the roasted ham they were eating.

"Balin?" He glanced up at looked at her. "Do you know why we're here?"

"I have my suspicions," he said after a moment.

Dis wanted to say more, but before she could, the doors to the hall opened, and Thorin walked in. He was flanked by two Dwarven soldiers, but he ordered them to wait outside the doors, and to make sure no one entered. Other than that, the King was alone.

"Where is the Queen?" Bofur whispered to Bifur, who signed something back.

Ori glanced around at his two brothers, his eyes wide with worry. Balin seemed even more worried than he was, when he saw that Dwalin had not entered with Thorin.

"Thorin?" Dis rose from her chair, and Thorin let out a breath. He walked around to the head of the table, and stood there.

"You all must be wondering why Cheyanne and I asked you to dine with us," he said to the Dwarves in the hall. "It is because, out of everyone in Erebor, we trust the eleven of you the most." Thorin rested his hands on the table, and gazed downward for a moment.

Dis inhaled. Her brother was in pain; she knew him well enough to see that. As did the others at the table, she noticed.

"Thorin?" He glanced up at the quiet inquiry from Dori. "What's the problem?"

Thorin's eyes closed, and he swallowed. "Cheyanne is ill," he said softly, opening his eyes again.

Immediately, quiet worry broke out from the Company. Dis looked at her brother, her eyes wide.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I saw her this morning; she was fine."

"She has gotten good at hiding it," Thorin admitted, "but when she fainted in the hallway earlier -"

"She _fainted_?" Nori asked in shock.

Thorin nodded. "When she awoke, she told Dwalin and Fili that she has been suffering from dreams these past months that have… confused her. She said that she feels as though she is living a different life in them, but she is certain that she _has_ lived it, only not just in her dreams."

Oin rose from his chair. "Should I go inspect her for a fever?" he asked.

"We already have, several times," Thorin answered softly. "She is fine, physically, if not… exhausted." The King shook his head. "This is not an illness that a simple tea or tonic will cure, Oin."

The Company's healer slowly sat back down. Ori glanced around at his fellow Company members. All of them were looking downcast. He decided to suggest the thing he had thought of immediately after hearing that Cheyanne was ill.

"Gandalf might have some idea as to help her, if we were to go looking for him."

All of the Dwarves turned in his direction, but Bofur was the first to speak: "You want the Queen to travel in her condition?"

"I don't want _her_ to go to Gandalf. I think Gandalf should come here," Ori explained.

Balin was nodding, and he glanced at Thorin. Dis was impressed with how well the old Dwarf was taking the news; he was very fond of Cheyanne. "It may be the best option, Thorin. Especially if we don't want the news spreading to others."

Dis exhaled. She hadn't even thought of that. If others knew that the Queen was ill, they could take it as a sign that she was not fit to be Queen, and start a conflict. Or if those outside Erebor learned, they could march on the mountain, knowing that both of the rulers were under poor conditions.

She could already tell that the realization of Cheyanne being ill had hit Thorin very hard. No doubt he feared the worst, and she didn't doubt he would only worsen as Cheyanne did.

He did, however, nod in acknowledgement of Balin's suggestion.

"Send Master Baggins a letter," he said to Balin. "He may know where Gandalf is. And tell him that it's best if he and the wizard get here as soon as possible."

Balin rose and went to compose the letter immediately.

"Thorin, what do you want from the rest of us?" Gloin asked. The Company turned to look at their King, and Thorin was silent for a moment.

"I need you all to be prepared for anything I may ask of you," he said at last. "Gandalf may have an idea of how to help her, and if there is some sort of… thing he needs in order to do so that he cannot retrieve, I may ask one of you to go instead. And I need you all to promise me that nothing of what was spoken here goes to anyone else, inside Erebor or outside."

Kili, who had been quietly sitting beside Dis during the whole discussion, looked up at last. "Uncle," he began. Thorin looked at him, and Kili sighed. "Is Cheyanne going to be all right?"

"I hope so, Kili," Thorin answered softly. "She's been worried about you and your brother. Apparently, in this 'other life', something happened to you. She wants to make sure you're safe."

"May I go sit with her?" Kili asked, standing up.

"Yes," Thorin agreed. "I will go with you." He faced the Company one last time. "Remember, none of this leaves this room. I trust you all, and I know you all care for Cheyanne as well. I ask you to help us not as your King, but as your friend."

One by one, the Company members nodded to him. Thorin nodded back, and then both he and Kili exited the dining hall. Dis remained seated as the others began to file out after them. She didn't know what to make of the the situation, but she could pray to Mahal that things would get better.

It seemed that was all she could do.

Upstairs, in the Royal Apartment, Dwalin was standing near the foot of the bed. Cheyanne had fallen asleep shortly after Thorin had left, just like he had hoped she would, and he was watching, waiting for her to wake up, just to see if her wakening was as bad as she had believed it to be.

Maybe she had been over exaggerating. Maybe she was fine, and she was simply having bad dreams. Maybe…

Cheyanne started to stir on the bed, and he walked towards the side where she lay. "Lass?" he asked softly, looking down at her.

She let out a small groan, and blinked open her eyes. She gaped at him for a moment, and then quickly sat up and scooted backwards across the bed away from him.

Dwalin's eyes widened. "Lass, lass, it's all right!" he said holding out his hands. "It's only me. It's Dwalin!"

"You're not real," she whispered, putting her hands over her ears, and squeezing her eyes shut. "You're not real. You can't be."

"Lass, I am," he said slowly. "I am. I'm Dwalin. You're Cheyanne Baggins. You are married to Thorin Oakenshield, and you are Queen Under the Mountain. You're sick, but we're going to make you better."

Cheyanne's eyes opened, and she stared at him. After a moment, her hands lowered.

"I'm having another dream," she said softly. "I must be."

Dwalin exhaled, and he closed his eyes. She wasn't attacking him, at least, but clearly she did not know who he was.

Things really were as bad as she had thought.

The door to the bedchamber opened, and Fili walked in, holding the tray of food he had gone down to the kitchens to fetch. Cheyanne's eyes darted over to him, and she inhaled sharply, her hand going to her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Fili asked, putting the tray down on the chest at the foot of the bed.

Cheyanne gaped at him for another moment, and then her eyes moved over to Dwalin again. She looked at Fili once more.

"Y-you're supposed to be dead," she whispered. "I saw you die. We… the funeral…"

Dwalin blinked at her, and then he looked to Fili, who appeared relatively calm for someone who had just been told was supposed to be dead. He actually _smiled_ at Cheyanne, and held out his arms.

"I'm not dead, though. None of the Company is. We're all alive, and we want you to feel better. Kili and Thorin are on their way up."

"B-but…" Cheyanne lowered her hand from her mouth and closed her eyes again, breathing outwards. "A dream, Chey," she whispered to herself. "That's all this is."

Fili glanced at Dwalin. The older Dwarf merely shook his head. He didn't know what to say.

The bedchamber door opened again, and Kili slid into the room, followed immediately by Thorin. Cheyanne looked at Kili first, and then her eyes met Thorin's. She winced, and let out a weak gasp, her hand going to her head. Dwalin, who was closest to her, started to reach over, but she brushed him off.

"Thorin," she said softly, glancing up at him.

"Yes, _bunnanunê_ ," Thorin whispered, approaching the bed. He stood next to it, watching Cheyanne's face. "I'm here."

"You're King, and I'm…" Cheyanne trailed off, and shook her head roughly. "No, that can't be…" She let out a frustrated groan and fell backwards against her pillow, looking around at the four Dwarves. "What is my last name?"

"It's Baggins, lass," Dwalin said. "You're Bilbo Baggins's cousin."

"But I'm not," she whispered, covering her face with her hands. "I'm Cheyanne Phillips, and none of you are real. You're all book characters… God, what is happening to me?"

Kili glanced worriedly at Thorin, and Dwalin glanced across the bed towards his friend. Thorin was staring down at Cheyanne, his eyes dark, and his brow furrowed. If Cheyanne went on like this for much longer, Thorin would lose it.

"Thorin," Dwalin began, "maybe you should step out of the room until Cheyanne remembers."

"No," Thorin said stiffly. "She is my wife, and I must help her." He looked at Kili. "Bring me a chair, and that tray of food. She must eat."

"I am not eating!" Cheyanne shouted, bolting upright once more. "I am not actually here. This is a dream."

"No, ' _ibinê_ , it's not," Thorin said quietly. "You are here, in Erebor. This is your home."

"N-no… it… it isn't…" Cheyanne's anger receded slightly, and she looked more downfallen than anything else. She glanced around at all the Dwarves again. "W-where's Bilbo? Is he here? I would like to see him."

Dwalin looked at Fili. The golden-haired prince's eyes had brightened. Cheyanne was remembering Bilbo, and her close bond with him. She could improve, then, but what was the trigger to make her do so?

That, Dwalin decided, was something they needed to figure out.

For now, though…

He gestured towards the tray. "Bilbo's coming, but do you want some food? You need to eat," he said to Cheyanne.

Cheyanne blinked up at him. "Dwalin. Hi."

He managed a smile for her, though it was forced. "Hi, lass."

"I… I'm not hungry," she said slowly, looking over at Thorin. "I just… can I read something?"

 _Books. Also a good thing to remember._

"Of course you can," Thorin said. He looked at Fili. "Will you go get her something?" There was an underlying request to the statement, and Fili understood what it was. He nodded.

"I'll be right back."

The prince darted out of the room. Cheyanne was still staring at Thorin.

"What is it, _bunnanunê_?" he asked.

"I just… I don't know how I got here," she said quietly. "We were… at… Beorn's house, and then…" She exhaled and closed her eyes. "I can't remember."

"Lass, we won back Erebor with the help of your cousin," Dwalin said gently. "You married Thorin after his coronation. You're Queen Under the Mountain. Don't you remember any of it?"

"No," she whispered, her eyes opening. "Maybe I just… need some rest."

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a look from over the bed, and their expressions said the exact same thing.

 _Rest is the last thing she needs._

* * *

 **Holy smokes, my dudes! Not good, huh?**

 **We'll have to see what this means for Cheyanne and Thorin, and the others. I can't imagine it's anything good, though.**


	12. A Friend in the Dark

**Likarian: You asked for more soon. This isn't really soon, but it is more! Thank you for leaving a review, friend. :]**

 **So, admist the shit-show that's happening as I type this, I remembered that I've been so busy with birthday things that I almost forgot to upload. I'm sorry, chickadees. It's here now, though!**

* * *

"Gandalf, the most curious letter just came for me, from Balin," Bilbo said as he walked back into Bag End. "He said that I need to get to Erebor as quickly as possible." The Hobbit chuckled for a moment, and then looked up at the wizard. "Isn't that funny?"

Gandalf sighed. "Did he ask if you knew where I was?"

Bilbo reread the letter, and his brow furrowed. "He did, actually," the Hobbit said. "What's so urgent that we both need to get to Erebor?"

"Bilbo… I should have told you before, but…" Gandalf glanced around for a moment, and then he gestured for Bilbo to step closer. The Hobbit did, hesitantly. "Cheyanne is ill."

Bilbo jumped backwards immediately, gaping at Gandalf in shock. "What? How do you know?"

"Do you really want to waste time asking questions like that?" Gandalf queried. "I feared that it was already bad, but I didn't think it could be. They need me to reach Erebor to see if I can help her, which I can." The wizard glanced down. "With the help of something else."

Bilbo continued to stare at him. "Well, do we have to go get this thing you need to help her before we got to Erebor?"

Gandalf glanced up at the Hobbit, seeming to consider it. Bilbo couldn't tell what was going through the wizard's mind, however. After a moment, he exhaled and shook his head.

"No," he said. "I will have a friend of mine fetch it for me. Are you prepared to leave?"

"Of course," Bilbo said quickly. He darted for his bedroom and returned with his traveling pack. He slung it over his shoulders as Gandalf hurriedly blew out the candles that were lighting the front hall. He then turned to face the Hobbit.

"Come on."

The two exited Bag End, Bilbo making sure the door was secure before he followed Gandalf down to the walk and down the road.

"Will it be safe, for you to tell someone else what it happening in Erebor?" he asked, glancing up at the wizard.

"Yes," Gandalf said. "The person I am going to ask for help from is also a friend of Cheyanne's. He should be more than willing to help, when he learns of how dire the situation is."

"Is… is Cheyanne in terrible danger, Gandalf?" Bilbo questioned weakly.

Gandalf looked down at the Hobbit, and let out a breath. "I hope not, Master Baggins," he said, "but I will not know for certain until I see her myself."

"Well, then let's hurry!" Bilbo said, picking up his pace. Gandalf sighed, and glanced upwards. The sun was halfway across the sky. He would have to wait until they rested that evening to contact the fellow he had in mind to fetch the thing he needed to help Cheyanne.

He just hoped that the lad didn't think him insane and refuse.

Gandalf, supposed, however, that the lad had experienced stranger things in his life.

He had, after all, been Cheyanne Phillips's best friend.

"Jon."

Jon Davenport shifted in his sleep, his brow drawing together as a familiar voice spoke his name into his ear.

"Jonathan."

He rolled over onto his opposite side, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders without opening his eyes. The voice was extremely familiar, but he was having a hard time placing it. It was like… a voice heard in a dream, but not thought of once you awaken.

"Jonathan Davenport, awaken this instant!"

Well, that was rude.

Jon popped open one eye and found himself in his darkened bedroom in his apartment. Groaning, he rubbed his other eye open and pulled himself into a sitting position. It took himself a moment to gain his bearings, and when he did, he blinked once, twice, to make sure he was seeing what he was really seeing.

There was a dark figure standing at the foot of his bed.

Jon let out a high pitched moan and scooted backwards into his headboard, beginning to paw around in his covers for his phone, which, much to his dismay, appeared to have fallen on the floor as it typically did.

"Look, buddy, I don't have anything of importance, but if you want my collection of priceless Star Wars bobbleheads, you have have them!" he said, putting his hands over his head. "Just don't hurt me."

"Jon, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, or take your bobbleheads." The same voice from before spoke again, and Jon opened his eyes. Slowly, he lowered his hands and watched as the figure walked to where the light switch was on the wall and flicked it on.

He blinked in the sudden brightness and refocused on the person. He found himself looking at someone he never thought he would see again, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

"G-Gary?" he managed after a moment of staring at the old man, his voice cracking like he was still a prepubescent boy. "What - what are you doin' here?"

"Cheyanne is in danger, my boy," Gary answered, coming back over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and watched as Jon's eyes grew even wider.

"Chey's in trouble? Wh-what are you talking about, G? I thought…"

Almost a year ago, Gary had revealed to them that Cheyanne had been a character removed from J.R.R Tolkien's book, _The Hobbit_. It turned out that the lucid dreams Cheyanne had been having were Gary's attempts at reintroducing her into the story, as Gary himself was Gandalf the Gray, and he wanted the story to end in the way Tolkien had originally planned it too. The last time Jon had seen either of them, Cheyanne was about to go into Middle-earth forever, and Gary was going with her.

And yet, here Gary was, standing in his bedroom at…

Jon glanced at the desktop clock beside his bed. 2:30.

… at two thirty in the morning, telling him that Cheyanne was in trouble. What was going on?

"She's beginning to remember her human life on Earth, and her dreams are bringing her back to it. She doesn't know which is real, and which is false when she awakens," Gary explained. "Her memories of both of her lives are twisting up into a dark form, one that she cannot pull apart. The others are terrified that her dreams are signs of her going mad."

Jon's barely awake mind was struggling to get this all straight. He stared at Gary. "So… hold on. You're telling me that… Cheyanne Baggins is starting to get Cheyanne Phillips's memories in the forms of dreams, and that they're freaking everybody out?"

"That's the shortened version, yes."

"And… what are we supposed to do about it?" Jon asked him.

"There is a book, one in Middle-earth, that we can use to dispel Cheyanne's memories from her mind entirely," Gary said. "I need you to retrieve it for me."

"Why can't you get it?"

"I am needed. Thorin called for Bilbo, and Gandalf is traveling with him."

"So it would be weird if Gandalf suddenly disappeared," Jon concluded. "Right." He let out a breath and studied his comforter. "Fine. Where is this book I'm getting, and how do I find you when I have it?"

Here, Gary frowned. "This is the part I'm worried about," he said after a moment. "The book is definitely not easily accessible, and you will be in danger."

Jon's eyebrows immediately came together. "Where is it? I swear to God, Gary, if you send me to the Misty Mountains or something -" He cut off at the expression on Gary's face, and he let out a groan, covering his head. "No… no, no, no… I can't. This is crazy. This isn't real. I'm dreaming. You're an allusion. Everything is fake."

"Jon." Gary took his hands and pulled them away from his face. "I'm afraid to say it, but this is real." Jon shook his head desperately, refusing to meet his gaze. "Jonathan, Cheyanne needs your help. She needs you. You are the only one who can do this."

"No… I can't. I'm not… I don't traverse to other worlds!" Jon exclaimed. "This is my home! I live on Earth. I'm not some character an author wrote out of a book, Gary!"

"No, but you can traverse to other worlds," Gary assured him. "You know that, don't you? You do it almost every night."

"Those are dreams!"

"Are they?" Jon opened his mouth to retort, but Gary cut him off. "What were Cheyanne's dreams?"

Jon didn't have a response to that, and Gary gave him a careful look. "Jon, you must do this. If you don't, Middle-earth will fall into ruin. Each and every character you've come to love from that story will be lost, along with your friend. You are their only hope."

Jon stared at him for a long moment. Was there really any affect on him if he didn't do what Gary asked of him? He wasn't in Middle-earth; he had nothing to do with any of it's inhabitants, aside from Gary and Cheyanne. Would he really care if it were to fall into ruin?

 _Yes_ , he thought a second later. _Middle-earth brought you and Cheyanne together, Jon. If it's lost, you lose a part of yourself._

"Why does this affect all of Middle-earth?" he queried, looking at Gary.

"Cheyanne is the Queen Under the Mountain. If she is lost, Thorin will lose his mind. He'll do something terrible, like send his army to war with the Elves of Mirkwood, or with the men of Lake-town. All of Middle-earth will be drawn into the war, and it will eventually end in only ruin," Gary told him. "I know this, because John Tolkien wrote about it."

Jon groaned to himself. Always with Tolkien alternate realities that he just had to write. The man's imagination was too great.

Jon knew what he had to do, now, and why.

He bowed his head and let out a breath before nodding once. "What am I looking for?" he asked Gary.

"A very big and old book with a brown cover." Jon glared at him. "I didn't come up with it, Jon," Gary said. "I just know it has the incantation I need to help Cheyanne in it." Jon's glare faded, and Gary gave him a small grin. "I have faith in you, my boy. You can do it."

"Do you know where it is exactly?" Jon asked.

"I'm sure you'll find someone who does," Gary told him. Jon shut his eyes, and he felt Gary pat him on the shoulder. "Just remember Cheyanne needs you, Jon. It will give you the strength."

"Yeah, sure," Jon grumbled, wincing. "Just the fate of Middle-earth is lying on my shoulders, and all. You know, I'm bound to be a bit terrified." There was no response, and he opened his eyes to find Gary was gone. Jon let out a groan and buried his head in his arms. "Right."

* * *

 **Aw yeah, aw yeah, Jon's back. Heck yeah.**

 **I missed Jon. I really did.**


	13. The Flight to the Forest

**Likarian: Dude! I didn't notice before, but your profile picture is great! Thanks for coming back again. Don't worry, we'll see the effects of Cheyanne's illness on Thorin coming up pretty soon.**

* * *

Dis smiled at the Dwarf who bowed to her, then retreated back down the throne hall stairs. The next Erebor citizen stepped forward, and seemed surprised when he saw Dis standing before the throne, rather than his king sitting in it.

"My lady," he said after getting over his initial shock. "I've come to seek the King's permission in a certain matter pertaining to Dale."

"The King is currently unavailable, but I will hear your inquiry, and grant permission if I see fit, as the King allows it," Dis told him.

The Dwarf frowned slightly at that, but he nodded all the same. "My father is very ill. I've received word that an Elf living in Dale can heal him. I seek permission to send for this Elf, and have him come to Erebor in order to take care of my father."

Dis exhaled, and glanced over at Balin, who was positioned in his usual spot beside the throne, making notes. The old Dwarf met her gaze, and Dis nodded before turning back to the citizen.

"Would you give this Elf provisions of your own, or would the Elf seek the hospitality of the royal family?" she asked him.

"No, my lady," the Dwarf replied immediately. "The Elf will not disturb the peace of the royal family. My own is prepared to cater to her needs."

Dis once more looked to Balin, who was the one to nod this time. She dipped her head, and turned to the Dwarf.

"You have the permission of the royal family, and King Thorin, to summon for this Elf to help your father," she said. "The Elf may stay in Erebor for no longer than three days after your father is healthy again."

That seemed to be fair to the Dwarf, because he bowed to her. "Thank you, my lady," he said, and then he turned and headed down the throne room stairs. Dis sighed in relief, and sat down heavily on the dais, resting her back against the throne. Balin rose from where he sat in a chair and walked over to her.

"I must apologize again, for making you do this," he said quietly. "I know it isn't ideal."

"Nonsense," Dis told him. "I know that Thorin is preoccupied, and Cheyanne is ill. As sister to the King, I am next in line to deal with things like this." She sighed and returned to her feet. "Do you know how she's feeling today?"

Balin shook his head. "Thorin hasn't emerged from the bedchamber to tell us, and he's only allowed your sons and Dwalin inside." The old Dwarf exhaled heavily when he saw Dis's expression. "If I knew, my lady, I would tell you."

Dis realized that Cheyanne's illness was a sensitive subject. No one knew exactly what it was, only that she had both good and bad days. With such an unpredictable infection, there were often times when Dis and Balin and the rest of the Company would hear nothing of how Cheyanne was for days.

This was day two of no word.

Dis let out a breath, and started towards the stairs behind the throne that would take her up to the Royal Apartment. Balin watched her go, and didn't bother trying to stop her. Instead, he returned to his chair and sat down again, and put his hands over his face.

Dis climbed the stairs up to the hallways where the royal family, and their most respected visitors, had their apartments. The furthest hallway from the staircase contained the Royal Apartment, and that was where Dis went.

When she made it down the hall, she went to the big door that would lead into the Apartment's main parlor, and she knocked on it.

After a moment, Cheyanne's lady's maid, Fala, opened the door, and her eyes widened.

"My lady! I - we… aren't you scheduled to be in court?" the maid asked, blinking.

"I was until a few minutes ago," Dis replied. "I wish to see my brother, the King, or Master Dwalin."

Fala glanced over her shoulder. "I'll… I'll see if they can come out," she said after a moment. "Excuse me."

The maid disappeared back into the Apartment, and Dis sighed to herself, but crossed her arms to wait.

After a minute, Fala returned, opening the door wider this time. Dis stepped through into the parlor, and Fala closed the door behind her.

"Master Dwalin will be with you shortly," she said to Dis. "Do you need anything, my lady?"

"No, thank you," Dis answered, taking a seat in an arm chair before the big stone fireplace against one wall.

Fala seemed to want to linger, but she dipped her head after a moment and disappeared into one of the other rooms leading off from the parlor. Dis gazed at the empty fireplace for what felt like ages before the door to the bedchamber opened.

She rose from her chair and folded her hands in front of herself, blinking at Dwalin as he shuffled out into the parlor and closed the door behind him.

"How is she today?"

Dwalin glanced at her and merely shook his head. Dis let out a breath. A bad day, then.

"This isn't getting any easier, is it?" she asked Dwalin.

"No," the other Dwarf answered. "Not at all. If… if this is how I feel, I can't imagine what Thorin is going through." Dwalin met Dis's gaze. "Have you spoken with him?"

"No," Dis answered. "When he's not with Cheyanne… he disappears to somewhere, and I don't know where that is."

"He's with her now," Dwalin said, nodding towards the door he'd just come out of. "Fili and Kili are, too. I think… I think if anyone could get some sort of response from him, it would be you."

"Dwalin -"

"He needs to talk about it, my lady," Dwalin said softly. "He won't speak with me, or anyone. He needs… he needs _someone_ , though, and I think that someone is you." Dis looked away. "Please."

She glanced back at Dwalin, and saw that his eyes were glistening. He looked ready to drop to his knees and sob, which made Dis wish she could do _something_. Maybe talking to her brother was it.

"All right," Dis said softly. "I'll speak with him."

"Thank you," Dwalin said. He gestured with his head, and they both entered the bedchamber.

All three Dwarves already in there were seated close to where Cheyanne lay in the bed. Her eyes were red, her forehead slick with sweat. She'd definitely woken from some sort of nightmare. Dis had never seen anyone look as broken as the Hobbit did.

Glancing at her brother, however, she changed her mind. Thorin looked even worse than Cheyanne did, and Dis couldn't even see his face.

Kili glanced up as the door closed behind Dis and Dwalin, and he nudged Fili's arm to draw his attention. Fili looked over at them, and he placed a reassuring hand on Cheyanne's forehead before walking towards them.

"Fili -" Cheyanne's voice was strained, panicky, and her chest started to rise and fall rapidly.

"It's all right, Chey," he said, stopping and going back to her at once. "I'm right here. I'm fine." He glanced over his shoulder at his mother and gestured with his chin that she should come to them instead.

Dis did so, carefully, and Fili gestured to her. "That's my mother. You know her, right? She's a friend of yours," he said to Cheyanne, whose eyes turned away from him and looked at Dis. She offered the Hobbit a small smile.

"It's just me, sweet Halfling," she said gently.

"Dis," Cheyanne said, her voice quiet. "I know you."

"That's right," Dis agreed. "I need to talk with Thorin. Is that all right with you?"

Cheyanne glanced up at her husband, who was brushing his fingers through her damp hair. "What about?" she asked after a second of watching him.

Dis glanced over at Dwalin, who had stepped closer to the bed as well. Instead of answering Cheyanne's question, Dwalin joined the other three Dwarves and took one of her hands in his. The Hobbit smiled up at him.

"Hi, Dwalin."

"Hello, lass," he said, managing a grin as well. "Is it okay if I borrow Thorin for a second? I need to talk to him about something."

"It's important?" Cheyanne asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Very," Dwalin said.

Cheyanne's eyes turned up to Thorin again. "You'll make sure nothing happens to him?"

"That's my job," Dwalin told her.

"All right," Cheyanne said after another moment. "Just… make sure he stays safe."

"I will," Dwalin promised.

"Thorin…" The King leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"I'll be right back," he said softly.

Together, both he and Dwalin walked over to where Dis was. Dwalin glanced over at Cheyanne and then murmured, "Dis needs to speak with you."

"What's going on?" Dis asked her brother.

"What do you mean?" Thorin answered.

"You haven't spoken to anybody about how you're doing," Dis explained softly. "Talk to me, big brother. Tell us how we can help."

"You can't," Thorin said. "No one can. We need the wizard, and Cheyanne needs Bilbo. We're stuck with what we have until they arrive."

Dis let out a breath. "I'm not asking how we can help her, Thorin. I'm asking how we can help you."

"I need her back," he whispered, bowing his head. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Thorin!" Cheyanne let out a whimper, and he immediately turned away from the two Dwarves and rushed back over to her.

"I'm all right," he assured, placing his lips against her forehead. "I'm here. Everything's fine."

"Don't leave me," Cheyanne begged. "Please."

"I won't," Thorin promised. "I'm staying right here." He glanced over at Dwalin and Dis again before he shook his head and smiled down at Cheyanne. "I'm right here."

"Kee…"

"I'm here," Kili said, rising from the chair he was sitting in and taking her hand. "Fili's here, too. We're all okay."

"And… Bilbo?" Cheyanne asked. "Where's Bilbo?"

"He's on his way," Fili said. "He and Gandalf are both coming here."

"Gandalf?" Cheyanne let out a laugh. "I like Gandalf. He's a good friend."

"He is," Thorin agreed.

Dis and Dwalin exchanged a look, and Dis bowed her head when she saw the defeat on Dwalin's face. Now she understood what everyone was going through. Cheyanne really did need help.

The two exited the bedchamber, and Dwalin placed his hands over his eyes and leaned back against the closed door, breathing in deeply. Dis gazed at him, waiting, and, after a moment, Dwalin got himself back under control. He lowered his hand and looked at her.

"She dreams of Thorin's death," he began quietly. "Of Fili and Kili's deaths as well. And then… she dreams that she is someone else, a different version of herself, living somewhere that isn't Erebor." He shook his head helplessly. "We don't know what she means when she asks for someone named 'Jon', or what she's talking about when she brings up… something called 'dee-vee-dees', and a bookstore, which is ironically called Dreamer's." Dwalin blinked at Dis. "She sometimes talks about someone named 'Gary' and it's as though she expects us to know who she is. She tells us that he's Gandalf's other person, just like her other person is this 'Cheyanne Phillips'."

Dwalin's head fell back against the door, his eyes on the ceiling of the parlor. "I don't know what to do, Dis. Some days, it's as though she's perfectly fine, and knows everything, and then she'll start to question herself. Then there are days like this, where she wakes up from a nightmare about one of the princes' or Thorin's death, and she can't be certain they're all right unless they're with her at all times. And then there are days when she thinks that she is Cheyanne Philips, and that she isn't even supposed to be here."

"Dwalin -"

"We don't know how to help her, and I know that it's killing your brother, and there's nothing I can do about it!" Dwalin exclaimed, moving away from the door and against one of the stone walls of the parlor. He hit it with his fist, and then rested his forehead against it, his shoulders shaking. "I don't know how much longer I can take seeing the two of them likes this, Dis. It's… it's going to _change_ Thorin, and it's only a matter of time before he starts blaming us, just like he did during the dragon sickness."

"This isn't the dragon sickness, Dwalin," Dis said gently.

"No, you're right," Dwalin murmured, turning away from the wall and looking at her. "It is much, much worse. Instead of gaining a great treasure, Thorin is losing the only treasure he actually cares about." He shook his head again. "And it's only going to make his change all the more serious."

Dis didn't know what to say to that. Instead, she bowed her head and studied the royal blue rug beneath their feet. Dwalin watched her, waiting for her to speak, to assure him that everything would be all right. Dis was the optimist. She had to believe Cheyanne would get better, even if no one else did, even if Thorin was starting to give up himself.

Still, Dis said nothing, and Dwalin's hopes sank even further. Even the Lady of Erebor didn't have any kind words to give him about the current situation.

And that meant the situation was just as dire as the attack of Smaug.

To say Jon ached was a _giant_ understatement. His back hurt, his feet hurt, his shoulders hurt… Hell, even his _eyelashes_ hurt, which was saying a lot, considering he couldn't even feel his eyelashes on a good day.

Jon let out a weak groan and tried to roll over, finding himself with a face full of something very soft and fragrant. He took a deep sniff and let out a sigh of pleasure.

"Lavender…"

"Thought you might want to wake up somewhere pleasant." His eyes flew open at the voice that spoke from behind him, and he sat up a lot quicker than he probably should have, considering the fact that a full out war started in his head as soon as he did.

Jon cursed to himself and covered his eyes with his hands, leaning forward. "Augh… what happened to me?" he asked, speaking mostly to himself, but receiving an answer nonetheless.

"I found you lying on the edge of a river," the same voice replied. "You seemed like you needed some help, considering it looked as though you'd fallen over the edge of the waterfall."

Jon _knew_ that voice. Slowly, he lowered his hands and felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw who it belonged too.

"L-Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf!"

The blond elf looked taken aback by his sudden outburst. He rose to his feet, holding out a dagger in Jon's direction. "How come you by my name?"

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but stopped himself before _YOU'RE MY FAVORITE CHARACTER_ was able to fly out of his mouth. He was in Middle-earth. He needed to take things carefully.

So, he let out a chuckle. "Well, you are Prince of Mirkwood, aren't you?" he queried, running his fingers through his hair.

Legolas frowned and looked away. "Not anymore."

"No?" Jon knew very well what he meant, but he couldn't let Legolas know that, or else he'd be in the same position Cheyanne had been in with the Company.

Legolas shook his head, and seemed ready to lament, but his eyes hardened before he spoke again, and he turned his knife back to Jon. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Jon," he answered at once, holding up his hands, which was a great strain on his arms. "Jonathan Davenport."

"And where do you come from, Jon Jonathan Davenport?" Legolas queried.

"Just Jon is okay."

"Where do you hail from?" Legolas pushed, stepped closer. Jon leaned away from the knife held towards his chest and chuckled.

"Well…" This was it. He could either tell Legolas the truth, or struggle and lie his way through the rest of his journey. However, if Legolas was to be the help Gary had seemed to believe Jon would find, then perhaps it was best if Legolas knew the truth.

However… if he did tell the truth, Legolas could classify him as insane and leave before Jon could drag him into insanity as well. The safest bet was to lie, at least for now.

"I live near the Bywater," Jon said after a moment. "I work at the inn there, the Green Dragon. Do you know it?"

Legolas was frowning. "What cause would you, a human, have by living in The Shire?"

This Jon didn't have to lie about. "I like the company of smallfolk. They're interesting people. Have you ever met one?"

Legolas shook his head. "Not directly." He looked at Jon head on, meeting his gaze. "What are you doing so far from your home, Jon Jonathan Davenport of the Bywater?"

"I've been sent on a quest," Jon answered, slowly beginning to climb to his feet, making sure to keep his hands up at all times, though Legolas's defenses seemed to be relaxing. "A wizard named Gandalf the Grey has asked me to retrieve something for him."

"I know this wizard you speak of," Legolas said after a moment. "What thing are you retrieving?"

"Something very important and secret," Jon replied. It was probably best if Legolas didn't know Cheyanne was sick - even though he seemed not to hold much allegiance to Mirkwood and Thranduil any longer, Jon didn't know if he trusted the Elf with the knowledge of the Queen Under the Mountain's illness.

God, was he thinking like this already?

Legolas was watching him closely. "Where are you going?"

Here, Jon grimaced. "The caverns of the Misty Mountains."

Immediately, Legolas's eyes went wide, and he took a step back. "A doomed journey, then," he announced decisively.

"Not unless I give up, which I have no intention of doing," Jon said, pulling on his shirt. He found he was dressed in Middle-earth-esque garb, which he was grateful for. He met Legolas's gaze and offered the Elf a grin. "If you're not busy, I'd appreciate the company."

The Elf snorted. "No one in their right mind would willingly traverse into the caverns of the Misty Mountains."

"Guess I'm not in my right mind then, am I?" Jon queried, his grin merely growing. He shrugged his shoulders, wincing slightly at the pain. "Well, if you don't want to come, I can't force you." He started to walk away, and then stopped, realizing he had no idea as to where he was going. He glanced at Legolas. "I would appreciate it if you could at least point me in the right direction."

Legolas glanced around for a moment, looking annoyed. Finally, he let out a huff and faced Jon again. "I have my doubts that you will get there alone in the state you're in," the Elf said. "Gandalf really needs this object?"

"Desperately."

Legolas's shoulders rose and fell. "I will take you to the Misty Mountains myself," he decided. "Gandalf is a friend - I trust him, and therefore, I will trust you." He started in the complete opposite way Jon had been prepared to go, and Jon grinned to himself.

Maybe the journey wouldn't be as bad as he had thought.

With high spirits, he made his way after Legolas.

The Elf did not speak with him as they shuffled down the stone road just outside the small forest with the clearing that Jon had woken up in. Jon had no idea where in Middle-earth they were, nor did he want to ask. Legolas may wonder what someone who didn't know where he was going was doing on a quest, and Jon didn't have an answer for him.

They made their way down the road in silence, Legolas glancing around as though he didn't trust anything they passed. Jon didn't blame him - Legolas had grown up in Middle-earth, in Mirkwood no less. Anything he didn't trust, Jon didn't trust, either.

"How is it that you are from the Bywater, going to the Misty Mountains, and yet are on the opposite side of Mirkwood from them?"

Jon glanced at Legolas in surprise. He hadn't expected the Elf to speak to him. He had been hoping the Elf wouldn't speak to him.

Still, he had, and now Jon needed to come up with an answer.

"Oh, uh, ah…" He stammered for a word, and Legolas glanced at him curiously. Jon finally let out a breath, and shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"You can't tell me," Legolas repeated, and Jon nodded. "Why is that?"

"Gandalf asked that most of this mission remain a secret, and that I only share necessary information with anyone I seek assistance from," Jon responded. "I'll understand if you don't want to help me, because I can't answer your question, but… I can't."

Legolas frowned at him for a moment, and then he faced forward again. "Gandalf is an odd one," he finally said.

"Yes," Jon agreed, confused. "He is."

"You won't make it to the Misty Mountains without my help," Legolas went on.

"No, probably not."

"Therefore, I will continue traveling with you, under a condition," Legolas said.

Jon furrowed his brow. "What condition?"

"You explain everything to me when we have whatever it is Gandalf needs."

Jon exhaled. "All right," he agreed. "That's fair."

"Glad you think so," Legolas concluded. "Now, pick up your pace, Jonathan Davenport of the Bywater. We have a way to go, if we are to reach Mirkwood by nightfall."

Jon nodded, and then frowned to himself. "Wait," he said, jogging after Legolas. "Did you say _Mirkwood_?"

* * *

 **Jon has a friend, and that friend's name is LEGOLAS. Because Legolas belongs in all the things that he really shouldn't be in. Because he's Legolas, and he's better than us. He can jump and fight and shoot and stab and ju-u-uu-uu-ump!**

 **Sorry. But, Legolas!**

 **Anyhow, I actually finished writing the Fiction last night! Hurray! So... maybe there'll be more frequent updates? I don't know, we'll see.**

 **Love you guys! :)**


	14. Many Thoughts

**Hi friends! I apologize for missing last week's update. As the holidays are happening, updates will probably be a bit... sporadic, and not as set as they appeared to be before. It'll last until after December's over, most like. However, I promise to try and upload a chapter at least twice in these last few weeks of 2016, so keep your eyes peeled.**

 **As always, reviews are appreciated, even if it's a quick something like, "Loved it!" Really. They're like oxygen to the choking author.**

 **Love you.**

* * *

Dwalin exhaled as he lowered the spoon of the stew he was trying to get Cheyanne to eat back into its bowl. "Lass, please," he begged softly. "You need to eat."

Cheyanne had her eyes squeezed shut, and she shook her head roughly, though she didn't respond out loud. She had woken, and her mind had decided to refuse any memories of being who she was, and she believed herself to be stuck in a dream.

Dwalin hated days like this. Nothing he, or any of the others, said or did brought forth any of her true memories, and it was getting to be discouraging.

Thorin was suffering the worst from it.

The King had positioned himself in an armchair in the corner of the bedchamber, his hands resting on the arms. He had barely slept since Cheyanne had gotten worse, and it was showing. They no longer held council meetings, which had been the final thing Thorin still did as a king. Dwalin's fears were being confirmed. Thorin was changing.

Dwalin had to wonder how long it would be before the Dwarves of Erebor began to complain about not seeing their King, and wonder what was going on. He wondered when they would realize the King had not made a public appearance in almost a month, and the Queen in almost two.

"Cheyanne, you must eat," Thorin said firmly, speaking for the first time since Fala had brought the food up from the kitchens. Cheyanne's lady's maid still only carried the knowledge that the Queen was ill. It was all Thorin trusted her with.

"I can't eat," Cheyanne said without opening her eyes. "This is a dream."

"It is not a dream!" Thorin bellowed, standing up from his chair. Cheyanne barely flinched, but Dwalin worried all the same. He rose from his own chair and approached Thorin.

"You shouldn't yell at her," he said quietly.

"Do not tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing," Thorin growled. "No one knows what we should or shouldn't be doing."

"Thorin -"

"Leave us," the King said shortly, turning away from his friend.

Dwalin stared at him, stunned. "Was that a real command, or are you just angry?" he asked at last.

"Both," Thorin answered. "Get out. I want to be alone with her."

Dwalin glanced in Cheyanne's direction, and saw the Hobbit had opened her eyes and was watching the two of them, a curious look on her face. When their eyes met, however, she looked away.

"Fine," Dwalin muttered. "I'll be down in the armory if you need me."

He stalked from the room, and once he was gone, Thorin exhaled and ran his hand down his face. He approached the bed, and the tray, and he gestured to it.

"Will you eat for me, _bunnanunê_?" he asked softly.

"No."

The King closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. After taking a moment, he opened his eyes again. "Do you know who I am?" he asked her.

"Yes," she answered, turning her eyes towards him. Thorin's hopes rose, and then crashed when she said, "But you're not real."

"Cheyanne… please," Thorin begged. "I cannot take much more of this. I need you to remember."

"Remember what?" she demanded.

"That I love you! That you love me! That we are married!" Thorin shouted. Cheyanne winced, slightly, and he sighed outwards. "I need you to remember what we went through," he murmured. "That you've comforted me, and I've comforted you. That you saved my life when no one else could, and again in battle."

Cheyanne stared at him for a long moment, and Thorin thought he saw something enter her eyes. It was only there for an instant, however, before it disappeared and was replaced by the hardness he had seen all morning.

"I won't remember, because it didn't happen," she muttered. Before Thorin could say more, she laid down and buried herself in the blanket.

Thorin stared at the lump on the bed for a moment, and then he retreated back to his armchair. He sat down in it, keeping his eyes on the bed.

Before he knew it, however, his head was snapping upwards, and the lump was no longer there.

"Mahal," he groaned, rubbing at his eyes before quickly standing up. He cursed himself for having fallen asleep, and went over to the bed to make sure that Cheyanne was actually gone. She definitely was; the spot where she had been laying was cold. She had been gone for a while.

Thorin let out a low curse in Khuzdul, and quickly hurried out of the bedchamber to find the one person who was supposed to be with Cheyanne at all times.

As he stalked through Erebor towards where Dwalin had said he would be, Dwarves gaped at him, unsure if they were actually seeing him. Thorin hadn't made a public appearance since Cheyanne's dreams had gotten worse. No doubt all of Erebor was wondering what could possibly be keeping the King from his duties.

One brave Dwarf, a young one who had helped Cheyanne with the library, went so far as to approach the King as he walked across the main hall towards the stairwell that would take him down to the armory.

"King Thorin?" Thorin stopped, and turned to face the Dwarf, whose expression conveyed only concern. "We're all worried about you and the Queen. Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but… what's going on?"

Thorin, who was still fuming from losing Cheyanne by falling asleep, didn't have the patience for answering questions that couldn't be answered. Still, he knew that getting angry would only cause unnecessary problems in the future, and so he exhaled and forced himself to relax long enough to give a reply.

"The Queen and I are… taking some time to ourselves," he told the Dwarf. "We ask the citizens of Erebor to give us that time. We promise, however, that we are doing our best to return to our duties as soon as possible."

The Dwarf nodded. "Tell the Queen that we miss her, and you as well, Your Majesty. Thank you." He bowed to Thorin, and then walked away towards a few Dwarves that were watching the exchange. As Thorin continued on towards the stairs, the Dwarves watched him go, and then the one that had spoken to him said, "I'll bet they're…" He stopped, and shook his head, grinning. "No, never mind."

The other Dwarves exchanged looks, knowing what he meant, and they smiled as well. If Mahal was good...

Dwalin had gone down to the armory, like he said he would, and had been sharpening his axes for at least a half-hour while he waited for Thorin to calm down. He knew that his friend was only suffering because of Cheyanne, and he was angry because of it, but Thorin needed to understand that Dwalin was suffering, too, and it wasn't fair to take his own anger out on everyone else.

"Where is Cheyanne?"

Dwalin looked up from his axe, and focused on his extremely upset King, whom had just stormed into the armory.

Thorin stalked over to where Dwalin was seated and stopped in front of him, his eyes blazing. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Dwalin responded, setting his axe and whetstone aside. He rose from his chair and crossed his arms. "I thought you were with her."

"I was," Thorin said stonily. "I fell asleep, and when I woke up she was gone." He fixed Dwalin with a glare. "I was hoping that her personal guard would know where she had went."

"I do not," Dwalin said, wanting to turn away from Thorin but not wanting to act defiant towards his King.

"So you've lost her, then," Thorin concluded, his voice a low growl.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes and planted his feet. "You told me to leave the two of you alone! If anyone's lost Cheyanne, it's you."

"You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time? Sitting down here and sharpening your axe?" Thorin kicked at the weapon, and it clattered to the floor, the whetstone sliding away from them across the marble. "You are supposed to watch her."

"I was following your orders!" Dwalin exclaimed, losing his temper. He leaned towards Thorin, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I know that this has been hard on you, but it isn't just you, Thorin. We are all worried about Cheyanne, and you getting angry at us isn't solving any problems!"

The two Dwarves stared at one another for a very long moment. Finally, Thorin looked away, and stalked back towards the doors of the armory.

"Find her," he tossed over his shoulder before disappearing.

Dwalin let out a breath and scooped up his axes. He slid them into their place on his back and went to do as his King bid him.

Somewhere else, on the other side of the Lonely Mountain, his Queen was curled up into a ball on the floor. She was shaking, and her eyes were wide. They darted from one dark corner of the room she was in too another, and when she saw no threat, they closed. She sighed shakily and rested her head against the cool wall, grateful for it.

She didn't know who she was. Her name was Cheyanne, but she did not know _which_ Cheyanne she was. Was she the one from Middle-earth, or the one from the place Gandalf told her about in the dreams that were not dreams? This place he called Earth, where her name was Cheyanne Philips, and she worked in a bookstore. Where Middle-earth was nothing more than a figment of a dead man's imagination.

She knew two lives, but instead of being intertwined as one, they were parallel with one another. Each of her lives' events were side by side in her mind, and she did not know which to believe as true, and which to cast away as a lie. Based on where she was, she assumed that she was the Cheyanne of Middle-earth, but what if she was not? What if she was just in another one of those retched dreams, where her husband and her nephews were killed, and her cousin was driven mad by the power given to him by a ring of all things?

But no. She was not supposed to know about the Ring. Bilbo never told her about a ring.

She does know about the Ring, though, because of the movies, and the books.

What are movies? What books? The one Bilbo told her he was going to write?

Cheyanne let out a moan and gripped her head in her hands. It was too much. She didn't know what to think anymore.

"Chey?"

Her head shot up at the inquiring voice, and she found a Dwarf standing before what was now an open door, letting in a flood of golden light. The Dwarf's hair was gold, as well.

Fili. One of her nephews. One of the dead princes.

 _Which is it?_

"H-how long have you been standing there?" she managed, though it was more of a croak than an actual question.

"Not long," Fili answered gently, taking a step into the room. "Are you all right? Do you know who I am?

She blinked up at him, flinching away as he got closer. He stopped walking, and she stammered out an answer. "Y-you're my nephew. Fili."

Fili smiled. "Good. That's good, Chey." He squatted down, and she was grateful for that. He didn't appear as threatening when he was eye level with her. "You disappeared, and Thorin was worried."

Thorin is her husband, if Fili is her nephew. Thorin is King Under the Mountain, which means she is Queen Under the Mountain.

She is the Queen, and yet here she was, curled up in a ball on the floor in some dusty room of Erebor. What a queen she must appear to be.

"I woke up, and I was confused," she said softly, meeting Fili's gaze. "I didn't know where I was, so I… I ran, and I ended up here."

"But you know who you are now," Fili concluded.

"I suppose," Cheyanne answered. "For the most part."

Fili seemed to understand what she meant, and he nodded. "You can't run away like that, Chey. It isn't safe for you."

"Or for anyone else?" Cheyanne guessed. Fili didn't respond to that, and she started to climb to her feet. Fili helped her up, and she wobbled a bit before she gained her balance. "They're worried?"

"Yes," Fili answered. "Thorin went to find out if Dwalin knew where you went."

"That isn't good," Cheyanne said slowly. "He told Dwalin to leave the two of us alone, didn't he?" Fili nodded. "Why would he expect Dwalin to know where I had gone if Dwalin wasn't with me?"

"Like I said - Thorin was worried. And I think he blames himself for your disappearance, since he fell asleep," Fili told her.

"Well, better go find them both before Thorin kills Dwalin without thinking about it," Cheyanne said. She also wanted to get back in bed; her head was spinning extremely fast, and she wanted it to stop.

Fili helped her out of the room and they headed in what she recognized as the direction of the throne hall. When they got there, Fili sat her down in her small throne beside the one Thorin sat in, and he told her to wait there until he returned with Thorin.

She did as he said, resting her elbow on the arm of the throne and closing her eyes for a brief moment.

"My Queen?" She opened them and found a young Dwarrowdam standing before the dais, her head bowed over the small bundle she carried in her arms.

Cheyanne blinked. She was a queen. This was one of her people. She would have to serve the Dwarrowdam.

Cheyanne sat up straighter in her throne and cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"Pardon me, Your Majesty, but I was hoping you would bless my daughter," the Dwarrowdam replied, keeping her head bowed. "It is rare for a Dwarrowdam to be born, and the midwives say she is the first to be born in Erebor since our return."

Cheyanne inhaled in order to slow down the room before she rose from her throne. "Then of course she must be blessed," she said to the Dwarrowdam, carefully walking down the steps of the dais. She took the baby from the Dwarrowdam's arms. "What is her name?"

"Dana, Your Majesty," the Dwarrowdam answered.

Cheyanne gazed down at the sleeping babe's face, smiling a bit to herself. She then leaned down and murmured the blessing Balin had taught her, before pressing a gentle kiss against the babe's forehead.

She looked up and returned Dana to her mother. The Dwarrowdam was beaming gratefully at her.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the young mother said.

"Of course," Cheyanne answered, smiling. "Take very good care of her."

"We will," the Dwarrowdam responded. "Her father and I will. Thank you." She bobbed a small curtsy and hurried away from the dais and down the stairs that would take her to the Great Hall, cooing over baby Dana all the while.

Cheyanne hadn't noticed, but Thorin and Fili had watched this whole interaction from one of the staircases on either side of the throne. When the Dwarrowdam walked off, Fili glanced at his uncle. Thorin's face, which had previously been darkened by worry and frustration, was now soft, and his eyes were shining.

The King walked the rest of the way down the stairs and stopped beside the throne. Fili watched as he cleared his throat, and Cheyanne turned to face him. The Queen gave Thorin a small smile and dipped her head.

"I apologize for worrying you," she said, glancing up at him. "I was restless."

That wasn't a good word for what she had felt, but Thorin did not comment on it. Instead, he shook his head. "I should have been awake to make sure you were all right."

"I am," Cheyanne assured. "I just feel a bit dizzy." She gestured towards the stairs that led to the Great Hall. "Doing that helped a little, somehow."

Fili walked the rest of the way down the stairs and joined his uncle. "Should we get you back up to your bedchamber, my Queen?" he asked Cheyanne.

She glanced between him and Thorin. She knew that there was supposed to be a council meeting later on. At least, she assumed there was supposed to be a council meeting. They could have canceled it because of her.

"Isn't there a council meeting today?" she asked after thinking about it for a moment. "I could try to go; I'm feeling up to it."

Thorin and Fili exchanged a glance, and her fear was confirmed. When Thorin turned back to her, she knew what he was going to say.

"We haven't been having council meetings like normal," he told her.

Cheyanne glanced down at the floor. "Right," she agreed. "I should have known that. Sorry."

"It's all right," Thorin said. He stepped towards her, and Cheyanne managed to stay where she was without flinching away. Maybe she really was feeling better. "You're shivering, ' _ibinê_."

Cheyanne wrapped her arms around herself. "It's sort of cold."

"Hmm." Thorin offered her his hand. Cheyanne put her own in it, and he started to lead her around the throne and towards the stairs that would take them to their Apartment. Fili stayed where he was, watching the couple go.

"It does seem like you're feeling a bit better," Thorin said to Cheyanne as they made their way up the stairs. "I don't want you to do too much too soon, though."

"Well, then why don't we have the meeting in our apartment, then?" Cheyanne suggested. "I'll be able to sit down in a comfortable chair, and go straight to bed if I have too."

Thorin didn't look like he wanted to risk even that, but one glance at Cheyanne made him reconsider. If she was feeling better, it was good to show that to everyone, to prove not all hope had been lost. That there was a chance things could be normal again.

It would make him feel better, too.

So, he submitted.

"All right, if you're certain," he said. "Are you feeling well enough to eat something, too?"

Cheyanne looked at him. "When was the last time I've eaten real food?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Thorin didn't want to give it, either. "A long time ago," he said shortly.

"So, maybe it isn't a good idea to eat something _too_ real," Cheyanne said softly, turning her gaze back to the floor.

"I suppose not," Thorin agreed. "What about some tea and buttered bread?"

Cheyanne considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "That's a good idea."

Thorin smiled to himself. "All right," he said. "I'll have Fala get it for you once we get to our apartment."

Which was exactly what he did, and the servant smiled a bit at the request before dipping her head and going to do as the King bid.

A few minutes after Fala had left for the kitchen, Dwalin walked up to the apartment door and knocked. Thorin opened it himself, and the Dwarf on the other side let out a sigh.

"I don't know where she is, Thorin," he said.

"It's fine," Thorin replied. "Fili found her."

Dwalin lifted his head. "Is she all right?"

Thorin nodded, and then moved out of the way of the door. Dwalin scooted into the apartment and found Cheyanne sitting upright in a soft armchair. She smiled at him.

"Hi, Dwalin."

"Lass," he returned. "H-how are you?"

"I feel pretty good, actually," she answered, her grin growing. "I blessed a baby."

Dwalin actually smiled at that. "Did you?" he asked, walking across the parlor to get to her chair.

Cheyanne nodded. She seemed proud of herself. "It was the first baby girl to be born in Erebor since the Dwarves' return," she said. "Her mother named her Dana."

"That's lovely," Dwalin said, glancing over at Thorin, who had approached the chair as well. "And… you're not confused?"

Cheyanne shook her head. "I was," she admitted, "but blessing the babe helped. I don't know why."

"She wants to have a council meeting up here," Thorin explained to Dwalin.

The Dwarf blinked. "Are you sure?" he asked Cheyanne.

She nodded. "I want to show them that I feel okay, since everyone is probably starting to wonder."

Dwalin looked at Thorin, and the King nodded. "It may be a good idea. Will you find Balin, ask him to give out word that we're having the council meeting in the Royal Apartment?"

Dwalin dipped his head, and shuffled out of the apartment, just as Fala was returning with a tray that held two pieces of buttered toast, and a cup of tea. She brought it over to the table beside where Cheyanne was sitting, and then bowed to both of the royals before exiting again.

Thorin gestured to the tray, and Cheyanne reached for one of the pieces of bread. She nibbled on the corner of it. Thorin smiled to himself and let out a breath.

Even if not all the days would be good until Gandalf came to help her, the days like this one would be ones to remember, and hope for. If he couldn't have Cheyanne as herself, the Cheyanne who at least believed she was herself was better than nothing at all.

The council meeting went… well. Obviously, those who were on the council but didn't know of Cheyanne's illness were confused as to why they were meeting in the Royal Apartment, but they did not say anything about it to their King, especially when they saw their Queen sitting up in a plush armchair, her hair neatly braided, and, for the most part, looking just fine.

Balin blinked at Cheyanne when he saw her, having seen her just as little as the other council members. She smiled at him, however, and his heart soared. Nothing made his day brighter than seeing that Cheyanne seemed all right, at least for the time being.

The council meeting was efficient as well. They discussed many things, including how the rebuild was going. One of the council members, a Dwarf who was in charge of the rebuild that conferred with the builders directly, commented that the library needed Cheyanne's eye before any further work could be done on it.

The Queen merely chuckled at that. "I'm sure Balin is handling it just fine without me," she said. "Besides, I didn't do anything to the library without his permission, first."

That received laughter from the rest of the council, and Cheyanne glanced over at Thorin, who finally relaxed back in his chair, and smiled slightly at her. Everything was going so well, it was hard to imagine that, only an hour or so before, Cheyanne had been curled up in a ball on the floor, wondering who she was.

When the council had parted, excluding Balin, Thorin walked over to Cheyanne's armchair and crouched down in front of it. She blinked at him, and he smiled, wider than he had during the meeting, and twice the size he had for the last three months or so. It was beautiful.

"Thank you," he murmured to her.

"For what?" Cheyanne asked him, confused. "I don't control what I remember and when, Thorin."

"I know, I know, it's just…" Thorin reached up a hand and placed it on her cheek. "I love you. So much."

Cheyanne finally smiled herself, and she leaned her face into Thorin's palm, her eyes closing. "I love you, too."

Dwalin bowed his head from where he stood beside Balin a few paces away, and Balin rested a hand on his shoulder. Things could get better. He knew they could. They just had to take one step at a time.


	15. The Councils of Elrond and Legolas

Several weeks had passed since Gandalf and Bilbo had left the Shire, and the wizard supposed they were making good time. Much better time than the Company had, at any rate, but Thorin was horrible with directions, so it didn't surprise Gandalf in the slightest.

They had set up camp on the Eastern side of the Weather Hills. Gandalf mused over the idea of stopping at Rivendell, but quickly dismissed it. He didn't want to waste anymore time than necessary, and he was sure that Bilbo didn't either. A stop at Rivendell would have been the wrong choice, and one that Bilbo would protest mightily, however much he enjoyed the place.

"Gandalf?"

The wizard raised his head from his pipe and looked at Bilbo. "Yes?"

"You never told me why you and Cheyanne are close," Bilbo said.

Gandalf offered him a smile and looked back at his pipe. "Well now… that's a tale."

"I think we have time," Bilbo commented.

"You're right," Gandalf agreed with a chuckle. "We do." He took a puff of his pipe and let out a smoke ring. "Let me think…"

"It wasn't so much as Cheyanne that I became friends with, but her parents. I was coming into the Shire for Old Took's Midsummer's Eve celebration, where I was supposed to shoot off my fireworks. I was riding through the woods on my wagon when a cry of pain spooked my team of horses. They took off, and I went flying into the woods. I rolled down the embankment and found myself getting closer to the wails."

"Where is this going?" Bilbo asked, frowning.

"Shush and listen," Gandalf said. "I decided that I may as well follow the screaming, to see what had scared my horses, and I found two Hobbits in a clearing. The female was the one who had been screaming, a very… well… pregnant female, and from the look on the male Hobbit's face, I realized what was going on.

"I didn't have much experience in the ways of bringing babies into the world, of course, but I was better suited for the task than Cheyanne's father, so I took over. I guess you could say that, without me, Cheyanne's father would have lost his wife and daughter, all at once. It made me think that Cheyanne needed me, and her parents knew that, too. They asked me to take care of her if something were to ever happen to them, which, unfortunately, something did."

"Which was…?"

Gandalf looked at Bilbo, and shook his head. "That, I cannot share with you, Master Baggins."

Bilbo glanced away towards the distance, watching the Lonely Mountain drift in and out of visibility through the clouds.

"I didn't know that she had lost her parents at first," he said after a moment. "She… she told me, a couple months into the journey. I wasn't sure how to respond, but she smiled and said,'We all lose our parents, Bilbo. I've lost mine, you've lost yours… even Thorin has lost his. What happens to you because of the loss, however, is your choice.'"

Bilbo looked at Gandalf. "That may have been one of the smartest things Cheyanne has ever said to me, but it was sad, too." Gandalf looked up at the sky, watching the moon as clouds passed in front of it. "I think… Cheyanne said that because she was young when she lost her parents," Bilbo went on. "She adjusted. Thorin… Thorin didn't even know his father was dead for the longest time, and so when he found out, he lost hope."

Gandalf glanced the Hobbit over. "Do you suppose, then, Master Baggins, that Cheyanne returned the hope he lost?" he queried.

Bilbo smiled at that. "A different kind of hope, but yes," he answered, "which is why we need to get to Erebor as soon as possible, so Thorin doesn't lose that hope, too."

Gandalf gazed at the Hobbit for a moment longer before he nodded once and put out his pipe. "Get some rest, Bilbo," he suggested. "We start out again at dawn."

Bilbo rolled over onto his side facing away from the wizard, and Gandalf lifted his eyes back up to the sky, frowning when there was a flash of lightning in the distance.

"That can't be good," he murmured to himself.

It wasn't.

When they awoke the sky was dark with clouds, heavy with rain, that started pouring the moment Gandalf and Bilbo starting riding. Bilbo let out a heavy sigh as the first raindrop hit him on the head, and within moments, both were soaked to the core.

"Stop the rain," the Hobbit said. "Please."

"I believe we've had this discussion before, Master Baggins," Gandalf said above the tumult.

"We're never going to be able to travel with the rain in our eyes!" Bilbo said sternly. "It's pointless."

"We cannot waste a day!" Gandalf answered. "You know that as well as I do." There was silence, and Gandalf glanced in the direction Bilbo had been riding alongside him, finding nothing there. "Bilbo?"

"Gandalf!"

The wizard pulled his horse to a halt and turned it around to find the shape of Bilbo on the back of a pony several feet behind him.

"I think her hooves are stuck!" the Hobbit called.

"Be calm," Gandalf advised, sliding off of his horse. "I'm coming."

"I'm going to get off," Bilbo said.

"No! Stay on the pony!"

All the same, Gandalf watched as Bilbo climb from the pony's back and then disappeared entirely. Gandalf froze at the agonized scream that followed his disappearance, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Setback after setback," he grumbled, carefully picking his way forward to see what had become of the Hobbit. The rain decided to pause as he approached the pony, and he found Bilbo lying at the bottom of a cliff in a mud pile, unconscious.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf called down to the Hobbit. He didn't stir, and the wizard lowered himself down to the bottom of the cliff as well, squatting beside Bilbo and resting a hand on his forehead. He murmured a short phrase, and the Hobbit's eyes flew open. He let out a weak groan.

"What is it?" Gandalf asked him.

"My… my leg…"

Gandalf glanced down at limb and frowned as soon as he saw it.

"Is it bad?" Bilbo's head raised, but when he spotted the injury, he moaned and dropped his head back into the mud.

"I suppose we make for Rivendell," Gandalf sighed to himself.

"We have… to get to Erebor," Bilbo said, grunting.

"Not with that leg bent the way it is," Gandalf answered. He slid his arms under the Hobbit and picked him up to the best of his ability, Bilbo groaning and whimpering at the slightest movement. "Stop complaining," the wizard ordered.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said, closing his eyes tightly. "It hurts."

"I know," Gandalf muttered, making his way back up the cliff and towards his horse. "I know."

Once he had Bilbo on the horse, and Bilbo's pony tied to its saddle, he set off in the direction he believed would take them to Rivendell. Rain pounded down around them, and Bilbo groaned with every slight bump that the horse prodded over, and every shift that he made.

Gandalf kept his gaze straight forward, doing his best to block out everything. He couldn't lose his temper, not then. He needed to get Bilbo to Rivendell, and then he needed to check in with Jon, and see how the lad was doing.

Rain poured, then sprinkled, and poured some more as Gandalf pushed his horse and the pony on towards Rivendell. He was unsure of how much time had passed before he finally saw the city through the rain, which seemed to be lightening as they got closer. Gandalf marveled at that, and he glanced down at Bilbo for the first time since they'd started on their way.

The Hobbit had his eyes squeezed shut, and he was shivering. The rain had long since soaked through his clothing. Gandalf admitted it was a bit chilly.

Still, they had reached Rivendell, and Gandalf had nothing more to complain about as he allowed Bilbo to be carted off to some Elven healers, and he himself sank into a silver tub of warm bath water to ease his aches.

When Gandalf had relaxed enough to be himself again, he went searching for Lord Elrond, who was sure to want to speak with him. He found the Elf sitting down to dinner on a private balcony that overlooked the vast expanse of Rivendell's gardens.

"Ah, Gandalf," Elrond greeted, rising from his chair. "Please, sit and dine with me. You must be starving."

The wizard was, and so he settled down in the chair opposite the Elf Lord and dug into the salad and baked vegetables that Elrond was dining on.

"Bilbo will be fine," Elrond told him, watching Gandalf fill a plate. "He had a minor fracture in his left leg that should heal in as little as two weeks, if he doesn't move it."

Gandalf paused in his food grabbing. "Two weeks?" he asked.

"Yes," Elrond responded, his eyebrows drawing together. "Why? Is that unagreeable with you?"

"No, no," Gandalf said quickly. "We were traveling to Erebor to visit. Nothing special."

"Hmm." Elrond gazed at the wizard a moment longer, and then returned his attention to his own food. "I see."

Supper was a silent matter after that, and when Gandalf had eaten his fill, he excused himself and went off to where Elrond had told him Bilbo was. He found the Hobbit fast asleep on a big white bed, his bandaged leg propped up on several pillows.

Gandalf sighed to himself, and sat down at the nearby desk to draft a letter to Balin, telling of the delay. It was not the worst delay that could have happened, but it was a considerable one. Gandalf could only hope that the Dwarves were learning how to deal with Cheyanne's frequent bad days, and weren't suffering too terribly from them.

After summoning a bird friend to carry the message to Erebor, Gandalf relaxed back into his chair, and closed his eyes. He reached out across Middle-earth, searching for Jon, and felt him on the edge of Mirkwood. He was in the company of someone familiar to Gandalf, but he could not tell who. However, Jon himself seemed to be fine - his aura was calm, aside from the prick of fear of having to go through Mirkwood.

Gandalf returned to himself and opened his eyes again. He hoped Jon had found good company, someone who wouldn't abandon him at the worst possible time.

Jon needed any help he could get while traveling through Mirkwood.

"Why did we have to take the route through Mirkwood?" Jon grumbled, pushing yet another branch out of his way as he followed after Legolas along the path.

"It is the most direct way to the Misty Mountains," Legolas answered, ducking under a branch, "and I know the way through, so it is the safest."

Jon exhaled. Lucky him, getting to run around Mirkwood with Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. Even though Legolas didn't seem to think of himself as its prince, he was right at home, and Jon could tell. The Elf didn't bother stopping to look around and make sure he was going the right way. He simply kept walking, and Jon had no choice but to scurry after him.

Legolas was giving him no relief, and Jon didn't know if it was because the Elf didn't like him, or if he was simply wanting to get rid of him as fast as he could. Which, if Jon was being frank, wouldn't have been a problem in the first place, if Legolas hadn't come with him.

Jon _had_ asked the Elf to accompany him, though, and so he couldn't exactly complain.

 _Stupid ideals_.

"Jonathan Davenport? Are you listening to what I am saying?" Legolas called. He had gotten rather far ahead of Jon, and Jon huffed before picking up his pace to catch up.

"No," he said once he had. "I didn't hear you."

"I said that you should consider paying attention to your surroundings," Legolas told him.

"Why is that?"

"I assume that you'll have to take this route back the other direction," the Elf responded.

Jon stopped, his stomach jumping up into his chest. "Why do you think that?" he asked, blinking at Legolas. _How did he find out we're looking for this book to help Cheyanne in Erebor?_

Legolas stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder at him. "If you're taking the item we are retrieving to Gandalf, and he is on the other side of Mirkwood from the Misty Mountains, you will have to come back through the forest."

Jon exhaled, his stomach falling back into place. That was all. "Right," he said, moving on up the path. "You're right."

"Jonathan -"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to pay more attention," Jon called over his shoulder. Which was ironic, because by doing so, he was not paying attention, and he ended up with a foot caught in what appeared to be spider web when he faced forward again.

"Ah, damn it," he muttered, attempting to dislodge his foot from the sticky substance. He then got his arm stuck, and then his other stuck. Soon, most of Jon was covered in spider web, and he was unable to move.

Legolas strolled up to him, and Jon blew a piece of web out of his eyes. "Could you help a brother out?" he asked the Elf, wriggling around a bit.

Legolas rolled his eyes, and bent down to saw through the web with his knife's blade. "You should pay attention," he said again.

"Thanks," Jon sighed. "I realize that now."

Just as Legolas got one of his legs free, the Elf froze, and his head raised. Jon blinked.

"What -?"

Legolas glared at him, silencing him with his gaze, and then he darted away from Jon into some nearby trees. Jon gaped after him, not knowing what to do. He started to wriggle around in the spiderweb, doing his best to get free. He froze, however, when he heard a faintly familiar sound coming from the trees.

"Oh, hell," he muttered, refusing to look up to see if his fears were true. When he heard the noise again, he gulped, and looked up anyhow.

Standing above him were three different Mirkwood spiders, each with eight eyes, and each with sharp fangs ready to suck out his blood.

Jon screamed. Of course he did. What else was he supposed to do?

He wriggled helplessly in the spiderweb as one of the spiders used a leg to drag him closer. A different spider hissed at the first, and put it's own leg across Jon's wrapped body to pull him closer to itself.

The third spider didn't seem to appreciate that, and it scrabbled towards the second, hissing. The second spider hissed back and snapped at the third.

Jon screamed all the while. The first spider drew him closer, and Jon stared up into the jaws of death. He should have known this would happen. What else would, when he was in Middle-earth?

Just when he was sure he was dead, there was a screech of pain, and Jon suddenly rolled in the opposite direction of the spider's mouth. The third and second spiders, scurried over to their companion, who had collapsed. Jon struggled to keep rolling when he came to a stop, but he didn't have to.

An arrow sailed through the air and embedded into the second spider. The third was killed an instant later by a flying knife.

Legolas emerged from the trees after a moment, going over to the spiders. He retrieved his two arrows, and his knife, and then hurried over to where Jon lay on the ground.

"Are you injured?" the Elf asked him.

"No, but I think that's as close to death as I ever want to be again," Jon answered. He was surprised when Legolas let out a laugh, and sliced through the spiderweb with one swift motion. He hauled Jon up to his feet, and then patted him on the shoulder.

"Do not worry, Jonathan Davenport," he said. "Next time, you will be paying attention."

The Elf jogged off down the path, and Jon gaped after him for a moment. Had Legolas just made a joke? That was new.

"Jonathan, are you coming?" Legolas called to him.

Jon exhaled. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm coming.

 _And, hopefully, this time I won't almost die._

He jogged up the path and caught up to Legolas. They walked quietly for a moment, and then Jon rubbed at the back of his head. "So uh… thank you, for helping me." Legolas simply nodded in response, and Jon glanced downwards. "I would have been dead without you there."

"I know," Legolas replied. "There is no need to stand on ceremony."

"Maybe not, but the fact of the matter is that you saved my life, and you're helping me, and I haven't been as grateful towards you as I should be."

Legolas glanced sideways at him, and smiled. "I've been put up on a pedestal my whole life," he said. "Everyone is always thanking me, even for things I don't deserve thanks for." The Elf dipped his head. "A few forgotten thank yous from you are just fine."

Jon sighed. "Well, in case I forget again, just know I am grateful to you."

"I will remember that," Legolas answered. "Come, we must reach the destination we are pushing for by nightfall, or we are in danger."

The Elf picked up his pace again, and jogged off. This time, Jon didn't hesitate as long to follow.

* * *

 **Hey! So, this one, and then probably one more next Sunday, on New Year's Eve, and that'll be the last one for 2016.**

 **Love you. :]**


	16. Everything Goes South

Dwalin glanced upwards from Cheyanne's sleeping face at a familiar sound that reached his ears from outside the bedchamber. It was coming from one of the other rooms in the apartment, that much was certain. He knew exactly what it was, too, and he smiled to himself. Perhaps Thorin was beginning to feel a bit better, or at least take into account his own health. Playing the harp was something he had done before, when his was thinking hard about something, or avoiding thinking at all.

A quiet sigh came from the Queen, and Dwalin looked down at her. Her eyes were fluttering, and they opened after a moment. Dwalin held his breath as she studied him, and then let it out when she smiled.

"Hi, Dwalin."

"Lass," he answered, immediately reaching for the cup of water that was sitting on the bedside table for her. "Thirsty?"

She nodded, and took the cup from him. She sat up all on her own and eagerly downed its contents before handing it back. As Dwalin set it down again, her head tilted, and her eyes brightened at the sound of the harp.

"Is Thorin playing?" she asked hopefully, beginning to push off her blankets. "I want to go listen."

Dwalin blinked at her eagerness, but didn't try to stop her. Instead, he helped her off the bed, and followed her as she scurried out of the bedchamber and towards the part of the apartment where the music was coming from. She paused in an open doorway of one of the rooms, and Dwalin came to a stop behind her, looking in.

Thorin was seated behind his golden harp, the wedding present that had been given to him by Lord Elrond. Dwalin had been amazed that Thorin had not melted it down to turn it into something else, but then again, Thorin had always had a love for music, and instruments, even if they had come from the Elves.

He had gone as far as to convert one of the closets of the royal apartment into a room for all his instruments, with Cheyanne's approval. This was where he was now, and where Cheyanne had stopped.

Dwalin stepped up so that he was standing beside Cheyanne, rather than behind her. "You like this song?"

Cheyanne nodded once, watching as Thorin pulled at the strings of his harp. She appeared to be enthralled by the scene, and Dwalin smiled to himself. Maybe today was one of her good days. She had known who he was, and had recognized the sound of the harp as Thorin's playing, after all.

"He's always been talented," Dwalin commented.

"How did he find time to learn while he was busy swinging swords and axes?" Cheyanne asked. Dwalin saw that her eyes were clear, and she looked at him with perfect recognition. Could it be that this was Cheyanne's best day yet? Would he even go as far as to say that the sound of the harp was healing her troubled mind?

"He found time," Dwalin said simply, "because he wanted to learn. If you want something bad enough, you get it."

"Like how you wanted Erebor back, right?" Cheyanne smiled weakly, and Dwalin let out a breath, the hopes he had allowed to rise falling flat. Her memories weren't as together as he'd first thought. She did this on the "better" days, but not the best days. She liked to make sure she remembered everything correctly. It was almost as bad as her not knowing anything at all, because sometimes she wouldn't believe that she was remembering correctly, and she'd start to think everything was imaginary.

Dwalin hated it when that happened.

Thorin seemed to realize they were there, then, because he glanced over his shoulder at them.

"Looking for a free show?" he queried, a grin in his voice. Dwalin knew that, even if it wasn't a perfect day, when his Queen was up and about, everything was better for the King.

"That was beautiful, the song you were playing," Cheyanne told him, stepping further into the music room. Thorin turned fully on his stool to face her, and held out his hand. She accepted it, and he pulled her onto his lap. He then turned them both around, and placed her hands on the strings of his harp before putting his own hands over them.

"I wrote it for you, ' _ibinê_ ," Dwalin heard him whisper, and he caught Cheyanne's small laugh as Thorin helped her play a few notes.

The Dwarf watched the two for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of the music room, and then the royal apartment. He met Balin, who was coming down the hall, looking worried. Dwalin frowned at his brother.

"What's the problem?"

"Bilbo," Balin answered lowly, glancing past Dwalin down the hall, where music from the harp could be heard. "He's been injured. Gandalf had to take him to Rivendell to heal."

"Which is a setback on their journey here," Dwalin concluded. Balin nodded, and Dwalin sighed. "How long?"

"Two weeks, the letter said, though it could be more," Balin answered. "I fear for her. I fear for them both, brother."

"So do I," Dwalin agreed softly. He spared a glance over his shoulder. "Today is one of her better days. It's not… not perfect, but at least she's not clawing at our faces."

"Do not try to make light of the situation," Balin warned.

"Do you think that's what I'm trying to do?" Dwalin demanded, his voice raising. Balin gave him a look, and he closed his eyes momentarily before going on in a quieter tone: "We cannot keep going like this."

"What else are we to do?" Balin queried. "We have no choice but to wait for the wizard to arrive. He swears he can end these spells of hers."

"He can't end them when he's not here, though, can he?" Dwalin asked. Balin gazed at him, and he shook his head. "I'm tired of waiting. Cheyanne will only get worse, and soon she won't have "good" days at all."

"So we should take the ones she does have as blessings," Balin said gently. Dwalin snorted and walked past him.

"Blessings. How can they be blessings, when tomorrow she might wake up screaming and asking for someone who doesn't exist?" he tossed over his shoulder.

Balin watched him go, and then glanced towards the royal apartment as Cheyanne's laughter drifted down the hallway, which brought Dwalin to a pause. The two of them looked at one another, Dwalin with the most defeated expression on his face.

"I don't know, brother," Balin sighed after a moment. "I just don't know." He exhaled, and Dwalin frowned at him before walking back over to where he was. "There is another problem," Balin said quietly. "The citizens are starting to get… restless. They want to see their King and Queen."

Dwalin blinked at him, and then glanced towards the apartment. "I don't think there's anything we can do about that," he said quietly. "Cheyanne doesn't remember enough today to make an appearance."

"There is unrest, brother," Balin said. "Something must happen, and quickly, or I fear what might come."

In the music room of the royal apartment, Cheyanne was leaning back against Thorin's chest, and allowing him to use her fingers to pluck at the strings.

"You should play more often," she murmured after a moment of peaceful music.

"You think so?" Thorin asked. She could feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest, and she loved it.

"Yes. And you should sing, too," Cheyanne added. "Will you sing for me, Thorin?"

"Always, _bunnanunê_ ," Thorin replied. "What would you like to hear?"

"Anything. Just your voice," Cheyanne replied quietly.

Thorin smiled to himself, and shifted a bit. Cheyanne took her hands back and rested them on her lap. Thorin took a moment, and then he returned his own hands to his harp and drew from it a lovely chord.

Then, in a gentle voice, he started to sing to her:

" _For you there'll be no crying_

 _For you the sun will shine_

 _I feel that when I'm with you_

 _It's all right, I know it's right_

 _And the songbirds keep singing_

 _Like they know this song_

 _And I love you, I love you, I love you_

 _Like I have all along_

 _To you, I would give the world_

 _To you, I'd never be cold_

 _I feel that when I'm with you_

 _It's all right, I know it's right_

 _And the songbirds keep singing_

 _Like they know this song_

 _And I love you, I love you, I love you_

 _Like I have all along_

 _Like I have all along._ "

He finished the song with the same chord he'd played in the beginning, and then he lowered his hands from the harp and put them around Cheyanne. He rested his cheek against the side of her head, and Cheyanne let out a soft sigh in response.

"Thank you," she said. "That was beautiful."

"You're welcome, ' _ibinê_ ," he answered.

They were silent for a long moment, and then Cheyanne shifted in his arms and turned around on his lap, so that her legs could wrap around his waist and her arms could go around his neck. Thorin raised an eyebrow at this, and she quickly pressed a kiss against his lips.

"Make love to me," she said softly, speaking through the kiss. "Before I forget again. Please."

Thorin hesitated. Did he want to do this when she was still so fragile? He didn't know. And yet… it had been so long since he had been able to feel her in that way, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't long for her.

"All right," he whispered, standing up from the stool and taking her with him.

Cheyanne kissed him as he carried her through the apartment's parlor and into their bedchamber. He then set her down on the bed, and crawled up over her, returning his mouth to hers.

Love was the only thing either of them felt or was thinking about for the rest of the evening, but Thorin made sure that he was out of bed before Cheyanne awoke the next morning. He didn't want her to wake up next to him, naked, if she wasn't herself. That wouldn't have been good for either of them.

It was smart of him, because the following day was a bad one. As Thorin watched Cheyanne's confusion and other conflicting emotions go across her face when she saw him, any hopes he had had of things returning to normalcy shattered.

He would have to savor the memory of the night for the both of them, it seemed.

The day was one of the hardest yet. Cheyanne refused to speak, something that had never happened before. No one could get her to talk, and Thorin was very close to hiding himself away in his music room, and not emerging ever again.

Fili came to the royal apartment after he had eaten supper with Dis in her own apartment, and he found Thorin and Dwalin in the main parlor. The King had his head cradled in his hands, and Dwalin stood against the wall a few paces from the armchair in which Thorin sat.

"Nothing?" the young prince didn't even look up, and Dwalin merely shook his head. Fili exhaled, and glanced at the closed bedchamber door. "May I go speak with her?"

"Do what you want," Thorin grumbled. "Nothing works."

Fili glanced at Dwalin. The big Dwarf's shoulders had sunk down even further, and he bowed his head.

The prince squared his own shoulders. He headed into the bedchamber, not bothering to knock first, and he was surprised by what he found.

Cheyanne was out of bed, standing near one of the dressing tables in the big room. She was gazing at her reflection in the looking glass, and Fili frowned when he realized she was crying.

"Cheyanne?" he asked gently, stepping into the bedchamber all the way and allowing the door to close behind him. Cheyanne didn't turn away from the looking glass. Fili walked up behind her. The Queen's eyes were puffy, her nose red and tear trails streaking down her cheeks. She appeared to have been crying for quite some time.

"Chey…" Fili reached out a hand, ready to place it on her shoulder, but she twisted away from him and backed up into the dressing table.

"Stop it!" she wailed, covering her ears with her hands. "Leave me alone! _Get out_!"

Fili didn't know what to do. He knew he couldn't leave her, but he worried that she would do something rash if he tried to help her.

"Cheyanne, please," he whispered.

Cheyanne's sobbing merely increased in intensity, and she lowered herself to the ground, hands still over her ears. She rocked back and forth, her eyes squeezed shut as rough sobs jerked through her. "G-go," she choked out. "L-leave."

"Cheyanne, no," Fili said decisively. He crouched down in front of her, but didn't try to touch her. "I want you to talk to me, Chey," he murmured to her. "Please, try to calm down. This isn't good for you."

Cheyanne sniffed a few times. She let out a few more sobs, her bottom lip drawing backwards as she struggled to regulate her breathing before her eyes opened. They fixed on Fili, red and puffy and tear filled.

"I don't know who I am," she whispered to him. "Who am I? Pl-please, tell me."

"You are Cheyanne Baggins," Fili responded. "Queen Under the Mountain, and wife of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain." He sat down fully, and folded his legs in front of him. "You come from the Shire, where your cousin Bilbo Baggins lives, too. You're very close with him."

"How did I get here?" Cheyanne murmured, watching Fili closely.

"You offered to join Thorin's company of Dwarves, who decided to go on a quest to win back our kingdom, Erebor, from the fire drake that stole it from us," Fili replied. "You and Bilbo and a wizard named Gandalf all came with us to help. We had quite a few experiences on the way, but eventually we made it."

"What happened? We… did we kill the dragon?" Cheyanne asked him.

"We didn't, but a man named Bard did," Fili told her. "Thorin didn't mind much. He was already becoming obsessed with the treasure in Erebor's hold."

"The… the dragon sickness," Cheyanne said quietly.

"Yes, exactly," Fili agreed. "You helped him get better, Chey. And just in time too, because we had to fight a war against the Orcs that were coming to reclaim Erebor for themselves. You helped Thorin then, too, Chey. You saved his life."

"How?"

"Don't know," Fili admitted. "You never told the rest of us."

Cheyanne had stopped hiccuping, and she now watched him without blinking. "I had… something. Something… that distracted the Pale Orc for enough time for Thorin to kill him." She frowned. "Right?"

"Thorin did kill the Pale Orc," Fili confirmed. "Then, you had to lie in bed for a while, because your rib was broken."

"It was broken during the fight with Azog," Cheyanne remembered, wincing at the ghost pain that shot through her side. "I almost died, didn't I?"

Fili nodded, although he hated to do so. "Yes, but you didn't. None of the Company did, Cheyanne. We're all still here, and we really, really want you to get better."

Cheyanne's eyes filled with tears again. "How am I supposed to get better if I don't know what's wrong with me?" she asked him, barely speaking.

"That's why Gandalf and Bilbo are coming," Fili responded. "Gandalf is going to help you, because he knows what's wrong with you."

Cheyanne wiped away a few stray tears with the back of one hand. "He would, wouldn't he?" she whispered, her tone dark. "He's the cause of all this."

Fili blinked at her, not understanding. What did she mean by saying Gandalf was the cause of 'all this'? All what? Her illness? The reason she came with the Company? What else was there?

Fili decided he would need to keep the information to himself, until it was possible for him to learn more and better understand.

"Fili." He glanced at Cheyanne, who was watching him. "You're Fili."

"Yes," the prince said, doing his best to remain patient.

"Kili's your brother, and the two of you are Thorin's nephews," Cheyanne went on. "And, if I'm married to Thorin, that means you're my nephews, too." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Chey," Fili told her. "None of this is your fault."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked quietly, glancing at him again.

"It's just a nickname," Fili replied.

"I… you're not the only one who uses it," she said after a moment.

"No, a lot of us use it," Fili said. "And, once, you told me that your good friend calls you by it all the time."

Cheyanne's lip quivered. "Jon," she whispered, and then she pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her arms. Fili watched her for a moment, and then he exhaled and stood up.

He returned to the parlor. Thorin rose from his chair immediately and stalked over to him.

"What did you do to her?" the King demanded. "We heard her crying."

"I got her to speak," Fili retorted hotly. "You should be grateful!"

Thorin glared at him for a long moment, and then he snorted and walked away into the bedchamber. Cheyanne still sat on the floor in front of the dressing table, although she glanced up when Thorin entered the room.

"' _Ibinê_ ," he began gently, going over to her.

"Thorin," she said back, and he smiled softly in response. "Where have you been?"

Thorin glanced down at the ground. "Just… away on kingly business," he replied after a moment. He settled down on the floor. "I apologize for not coming to see you."

Cheyanne huffed, and crawled towards him. Thorin allowed her to crawl onto his lap, and he cradled her gently in his arms as she rested herself against his chest.

"Just don't leave me alone like that again," she said sternly, yawning.

Thorin inhaled silently, and hugged her tighter. "I won't," he assured. "I promise."

Later, when Cheyanne had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, Thorin asked for Dwalin to fetch Bofur and Ori. The two Company members hurried up to the royal apartment as soon as they were summoned, to find Thorin waiting for them in the main parlor.

"What is it, my King?" Bofur asked, wanting to get underway with whatever task Thorin had for him as soon as possible.

Thorin exhaled, and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the closed bedchamber door.

"Gandalf has sent us a message that tells of a young man who is out looking for something Gandalf needs in order to help Cheyanne," the King said after a moment, facing the two younger Dwarves once more. "I would like you both to go and find this young man, and assist him on his journey."

"Of course, Thorin," Ori said without hesitation. "Whatever you need."

"Why send us?" Bofur queried before Ori could pull him out of the room to go prepare for travel. "Surely, a task such as this would go to a warrior, like Dwalin, or even your nephews."

"Truthfully, I would prefer to send them," Thorin admitted, "but Cheyanne needs all of them here with her. I would go into depth, but it is urgent that the two of you leave as soon as possible. I've had ponies brought from Dale to Erebor, so you may take them."

Bofur nodded in understanding. "What is the man's name?"

"Jonathan Davenport," Thorin responded. "I am trusting you two to help him retrieve whatever it is Gandalf needs. Do not fail me."

"We won't," Ori said with a determined expression. "You can count on us, Thorin. Come on, Bofur."

The younger Dwarf hurried out of the apartment, and Bofur glanced at Thorin once more. "We will return as soon as we can," he said.

"Good, and be careful," Thorin said. He turned, and Bofur watched him disappear into the bedchamber, before he exhaled and went after Ori.

* * *

 **And there it is, kids. Fuck 2016. Let's jump right into 2017 and hope for the goddamn best, shall we?**

 **I'll see you on the other side.**


	17. A Journey in the Mind

Bilbo winced at the pain in his leg as he adjusted himself on his bed in Rivendell. Gandalf, who was seated in a chair nearby, looked up at his movements.

"You should be lying still," the wizard said.

"I know," Bilbo answered, his eyebrows coming together. "I'm restless."

Gandalf let out an understanding sigh and nodded. Bilbo reached out a cautious hand and rested it on his knee. "Stupid cliff. I'm sorry, Gandalf. I should have been paying attention."

"It was raining, Bilbo," Gandalf replied. "You slipped. It wasn't your fault."

"Don't try to make me feel better, Gandalf," the Hobbit sighed. "I've set back our journey, and Cheyanne is only getting worse by the day." He hung his head. "We'll never get to Erebor at this rate."

"We will," Gandalf promised. "It will just take a bit longer than we originally thought. If you keep moving, however, it will take even longer." Bilbo managed a weak grin at that, and Gandalf gave him a broader smile of reassurance. "We'll get there."

He turned away from the Hobbit and rose from his chair. "I'll be back - I must speak with Lord Elrond about your progress." Bilbo nodded, and Gandalf exited the room he had been given, walking out onto the outside terrace and down the stairs leading into the courtyard below.

He walked slowly, his head lowered as he thought. Jon was in Middle-earth, that much he was sure of. Where in Middle-earth, he didn't know, nor did he know if Jon was aware of where he was going. The Misty Mountains were fairly far away from both Rivendell and Erebor, and if Jon was still alone, he probably had no way of getting there.

Still, Gandalf had faith in the lad. Jon knew his friend's life was in danger, as was all of Middle-earth, and Gandalf didn't think Jon would let either of them go without a fight of some sort.

He would have felt easier if he was with him, however.

" _Mithrandir_!" He paused at the familiar voice, and turned to find Elrond approaching him, his daughter Arwen behind him.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf greeted, "and my Lady Arwen." He gave them both a small bow, and Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder as he straightened.

"My healers say that Bilbo will be ready for travel in two days, less if he keeps his leg still," the Elven lord announced.

Gandalf let out a relieved breath. "Thank you, _mellon_. We are very grateful for your hospitality."

Elrond merely dipped his head. "All of Imladris understands the importance of Master Baggins reaching his cousin." He met Gandalf's gaze. "And the importance of the Queen Under the Mountain's health."

Gandalf drew his eyebrows together, and Elrond turned to Arwen. "Arwen."

She understood her father's look, and she gave Gandalf a small smile before she turned and strolled away. Gandalf let out a weary breath and looked at his friend. Elrond was watching him.

"You know."

"Of course I know," Elrond answered with a smile. "You cannot simply bring someone into Middle-earth without my knowing, Gandalf." He gestured with his hand, and Gandalf followed his lead down a shaded path out of the courtyard. "Cheyanne caused quite a disturbance when she first entered our world, though each arrival became less powerful as she returned over and over again. I had thought that she was merely here because of you wishing her to be, but it appears that there is more to it than that."

"Why didn't you say anything when we were here last?" Gandalf asked him.

"I assumed you had everything under control," Elrond replied. "You did, at least, until you miscalculated the extent of your own power." Elrond came to a halt and turned to face Gandalf. "You've brought in someone else. Another human."

Gandalf nodded. "Jonathan Davenport. He was a very close friend of Cheyanne's before I brought her here. She dreams about him, and panics when he is not there when she awakens. I've asked him to retrieve the book."

Elrond frowned almost immediately. "Is that wise, Gandalf?" he questioned. "The book lies deep within the caverns of the Misty Mountains, and could have been lost long ago."

Gandalf nodded. "I have faith in him." Elrond still looked skeptical, and so Gandalf placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Trust me in this, Elrond. I would not have chosen simply anyone for this task."

"No, you wouldn't have," Elrond agreed after a moment. "You care for the Hobbit."

"I do," Gandalf answered with another nod. "I always have."

"Then… we shall see how well placed your trust is," Elrond said with a sigh.

"We shall."

Elrond nodded once and strolled away down the path, leaving Gandalf to look down at the ground and let out a breath.

 _Please be safe, Jonathan_.

"Leg," Jon started breathlessly. "Please, hold on a second." Legolas stopped up ahead, and glanced back at him as Jon stopped as well and rested his hands on his knees. "Are you absolutely sure we're going the right way?" he asked the Elf.

"Yes."

"Are you really?" Jon persisted. "We've been in Mirkwood for almost a week, Legolas. That doesn't seem like an appropriate amount of time for an Elf who grew up here to spend finding his way out."

"Are you accusing me of leading us down the wrong paths?" Legolas demanded, darting back over to where Jon had stopped.

"Maybe I am," Jon responded hotly. "And you know what? I wouldn't be surprised if you are. You left Mirkwood, Legolas. Maybe… maybe you aren't as… I don't know, _attached_ to it." The Elf said nothing, and Jon exhaled and glanced around. "We need help."

"From who or what do you believe we will be receiving help?" Legolas inquired, crossing his arms. Jon merely looked at him, and the Elf immediately shook his head. "Never."

"Leg -"

"Stop calling me that," Legolas exclaimed. "And we are not going to my father."

"But he can help us get out of here," Jon said quickly. "We need to reach the Misty Mountains, and then we have to get the thing, and then we still have to bring it to Gandalf. And we have to do this soon, Legolas! I can't… I can't waste anymore time walking around in circles because you don't know where we're going." Jon crossed his arms. "Help me get to your father's castle, at least. If you don't want to stick around, that's fine, but _I_ need to get out of here."

Legolas stared at him for a long moment, and then he abruptly turned and went down a different stretch of the leafy path.

Jon groaned. "Now where are you going?"

"To my father's keep," Legolas called back. "Are you coming or not?"

Jon exhaled in relief, and went after the Elf.

It took them less than an hour to reach the Mirkwood palace gates. Two Elves on duty recognized Legolas at once, and they had the gates opened before Legolas and Jon even reached them.

Jon stuck close to Legolas as they crossed over a wooden bridge into the keep, and followed the Elf as Legolas took a very specific path to reach a set of tree-stairs, which he mounted and started up. Jon kept right on his heels, and when they reached the top, he leaned around Legolas to see why the Elf had stopped, and felt his jaw drop.

King Thranduil, also known as Lee Pace, was sitting in his wooden tree throne, as still as a statue. His crystal blue eyes skimmed over Legolas and Jon both, and his silvery robes sparkled as he waved one hand, gesturing them forward.

Legolas approached the throne, but did not bow to the King. Jon, however, felt like there was nothing else he could do, and he lowered himself to a knee.

"Father," Legolas greeted icily.

"My son," Thranduil returned. Jon could feel his eyes on him. "Why have you brought a stranger here?"

"This stranger and I are going on a quest to the Misty Mountains," Legolas explained. Jon was grateful he'd left out everything about Gandalf. That would only arouse questions that he didn't want Thranduil knowing the answers to.

"Rise," Thranduil said to Jon, who did as he was told. The Elven Lord's eyes took him in from top to bottom once more, and then he said, "You do not look the type to go on a quest willingly."

"I'm not," Jon agreed, "but here I am." He put his arms behind his back. "I need to find my way out of Mirkwood, your Excellency."

Thranduil smiled a bit at the name. "'Excellency'," he said to himself. "I rather like that." He looked at Legolas. "Why haven't you led this human out of Mirkwood?"

"I've been trying," Legolas replied, glancing downwards. "I've been away for quite some time."

"True," Thranduil allowed, "but you are still an Elf of Mirkwood. One would think you'd be able to find your way out."

Legolas closed his eyes in response to that, and Jon glanced between father and son before focusing on Thranduil. "Any assistance you can give to us will be highly appreciated, your Excellency. Legolas has been a very patient companion, but it is important we get out of Mirkwood before the week ends."

"Why?" Thranduil queried.

"Because our quest calls for urgency," Jon replied, frowning a bit. This was where the interrogation would start, if it did.

Thranduil gazed down at him for a moment longer, and then he turned to Legolas. "You must be re-acquainted with the forest in order to be as well versed in its paths as you once were."

"My companion just told you we need to leave sooner rather than later," Legolas said lowly. "We don't have time for that."

"Unfortunately, I cannot help you in any other way," Thranduil told him.

"What?" Legolas exclaimed, his head raising. "Why must you be this way? I have done nothing to you, asked rarely anything of you, all my life. And yet, in this one instance, when I need your help, you refuse to give it to me?"

Thranduil and his son gazed at one another without blinking for a very long time. Jon knew that time meant nothing to Elves. He feared that they would be like that forever, and he would slowly wither away and die as it happened.

Still, at last, Thranduil turned his gaze away. "You do not need my help," he said. "You need your own help."

"Why must you speak in riddles?" Legolas muttered under his breath.

"If I don't, how will you ever learn anything?" Thranduil questioned, glancing down at him again. Legolas glared back, and the Elven King smiled. "You are fine on your own, Legolas."

"Father -"

"Return to the forest, and you will see," Thranduil interrupted before Legolas could finish. "Stay for dinner, if you like. We are having roasted vegetables and baked potatoes."

Legolas exhaled, and glanced at Jon. "You are starving," the Elf said after a moment.

"No, I'm fine," Jon told him, and then his stomach rumbled, giving away the lie. He covered his belly with one hand, and let out a sigh. "I might be a little hungry."

"Then you must stay," Thranduil declared. He rose gracefully from his throne and walked down to them. "Come, everything should be laid out."

Jon exchanged a glance with Legolas, who looked defeated. He started to follow after his father, and Jon saw no option other than to do the same. He trailed behind the Elves, gazing around at the woodwork that was Mirkwood, and he decided that Cheyanne had probably felt the same thing he was feeling then, when she had walked into Erebor for the first time.

He hated to admit it, but Mirkwood sort of felt like home. He had no idea as to why, but there was something about the warm, fall colors and the wood that made him feel comfortable.

It bothered him, too.

Thranduil led them to a grand dining hall, complete with a long, long oak wood table that only had three places set up. Thranduil sat down in the grandest oak wood chair Jon had ever seen, at the far end of the table, and gestured for Jon and Legolas to sit in the other two seats.

Legolas did so after a moment, and Jon followed his lead. He found himself sitting across from Legolas, to Thranduil's left.

Immediately, three or four Elves darted out from… somewhere, and started to lay out shining silver platters. Jon watched as they lifted the lids at the same time, to reveal an assortment of vegetables and other greens, all things he would avoid eating back on Earth.

These vegetables and greens, however, were the most delicious looking things he had ever seen.

Jon waited to see what the Elves would do before reaching for one of the serving spoons, however.

Legolas was watching his father. Thranduil glanced between his two guests, seemed surprised that neither of them was grabbing for food first, and took up one of the serving spoons on his own.

It was silent as the three ate their vegetables. Jon did his best to appear dignified, although once one of the mushrooms hit his tongue, and he found it to be perfectly roasted and covered in salt and garlic, he wanted to dump the entire bowl into his mouth.

Legolas ate his own food one vegetable at a time, looking resentful all the while. Jon didn't know if he was angry about what his father had said, or about something else. Perhaps both? He would find out soon enough, probably.

"I don't believe I ever caught your name." Jon glanced up when Thranduil spoke, and found the Elven King gazing at him. He raised a dark eyebrow. "Yes, you."

"Sorry, sorry," Jon stammered, sitting up straighter. "My name is Jonathan Davenport, Your Excellency."

"Jonathan Davenport." Thranduil smiled. "Would you like some wine, Jonathan Davenport?" He gestured to the elegant bottle that one of the Elves had brought to the table, and Jon blinked at it.

"I better not," he said. "Alcohol rarely agrees with me."

"I see." Thranduil picked up the bottle and refilled his own glass. "That's a shame. It's one of my favorites." He turned to Legolas. "And you?"

"No thank you," Legolas replied, his eyes on his partially filled plate of food. "My water is fine."

"Both of you, so afraid to try the wine," Thranduil said, sounding disappointed in them. "Your mothers would be proud, at least."

Legolas's fist closed on the tabletop, and Jon let out a breath through his nose. Legolas's mother was a sensitive subject for both of the Elves. Anyone who had seen _The Hobbit_ movies knew that. Why was Thranduil choosing to antagonize, when it would only cause him pain, too?

Thranduil looked at Jon. "I don't know how long the two of you have been traveling together, but Legolas knows many different kinds of wine and other spirits of the sort, don't you?" The King looked at his son. "It's hard not to, when both your mother and I preferred wine to other types of beverages at the dinner table." Thranduil smiled as he turned back to Jon. "His mother's favorite was this rich, dark purple wild berry. She tried to give some to Legolas when he was a lad, and he hated the taste of it so much that he spit it out all over his dinner."

Despite noticing how much Legolas's eyes had darkened, Jon couldn't help but be amused by the idea of a young Orlando Bloom spewing wine all over the place. He knew it was a ridiculous image, but it was a funny one. He let out a short laugh.

"Same reaction I had to my first glass of wine," he admitted to Thranduil. "It's never been my first choice."

"Shame," Thranduil said, swirling around the red he had in his glass. "Wine is the richest, and it tells the most stories." He glanced at Legolas again. "Wouldn't you agree, my son?"

"Father, I am sorry for leaving," Legolas started. Jon blinked at him in surprise, and Thranduil set his glass of wine down on the table. "I know that losing Mother was already so hard on you, and then to lose me too… I can only imagine, which was the thing I tried hardest not to do when I did leave. Now, however, I realize that it was probably very painful for you, and I'm sorry. But you allowed me to go, and I don't appreciate this… antagonizing."

Thranduil studied his son for a very long moment. Finally, he said, "I am not antagonizing you, Legolas."

"No? What, then?" Legolas asked him.

"I am helping you," Thranduil answered. Legolas stared at him, and the Elven King exhaled heavily. "You wanted to find your way out of Mirkwood. I told you the only way you'd be able to do so is by reconnecting with the forest. I have helped you do so by 'antagonizing' you, as you so lovingly put it." Thranduil gestured to the archway they had entered the dining hall from. "If you go outside now, you will feel the as though you had never left at all."

"I don't understand," Legolas said quietly.

"Neither do I," Thranduil agreed. He then smiled. "But that is the power of memory, no? Secret, and greater than anything we could comprehend."

Jon watched this interaction between father and son, and he glanced down at his empty plate. Memories really were powerful. The could do so much, change a person in the smallest ways, or even reconnect someone to their home, as they had done for Legolas.

The could also destroy someone, as they were doing to Cheyanne while Jon sat in a wooden chair in Mirkwood, eating.

He needed to get moving again.

"Legolas," he started, and the Elf looked at him. Jon raised his eyebrows, and Legolas dipped his head in understanding. He rose from his chair.

"Thank you for the meal, Father. And for the help," he said to Thranduil, who merely smiled in response.

"Promise me you'll come home again soon," he said.

Legolas exhaled, and glanced at Jon. "When I am done with my quest, I will return," he said to his father. "I swear it."

"Good," Thranduil said. "It was a pleasure, Jon."

"Glad you think so," Jon said, pushing in his chair. "Thank you, Your Excellency." He looked at Legolas. "Let's go."

The two exited the keep, and Legolas stopped as soon as they were beyond the gate and bridge, and back in the direct forest. Jon watched as his eyes closed, and he inhaled.

"Do you…?"

"I know exactly where we are going, Jonathan Davenport," Legolas replied, his eyes opening. He grinned. "And it feels wonderful."

Jon chuckled. "See? I knew going to your father would be helpful."

"You were right," Legolas admitted, glancing at him. "I apologize for not agreeing with you at first."

Jon waved off the apology. "You're not the first stubborn friend I've had." _Cheyanne was more stubborn than you by far._

"You consider me a friend?" Legolas inquired, looking surprised.

"Yeah," Jon answered, frowning. "Why wouldn't I? You saved my life, and you're helping me." He grinned. "That, my dear Leg, is friendship."

"Must you call me 'Leg'?" Legolas sighed dramatically, setting off into the trees.

"I will call you 'Leg' for as long as you continue to refer to me by my first and last name," Jon swore, going after him.

Legolas merely chucked.

* * *

 **Oh, the friendship between a man and his favorite character.**


	18. The Bridge of Cheyanne's Memories

Erebor's restored doors stood before the wizard and the Hobbit, and Bilbo did not know whether he wanted to run right in, or linger outside for a moment to catch his breath.

Gandalf had warned him, many times, that what he found inside when he went to see Cheyanne may not be something he wanted to see. He had said that she might not know who he was, or who she herself was, or she may be just as happy to see him as Bilbo hoped. It all depended on her dreams from the night before.

Bilbo wanted to understand Cheyanne's sickness, but Gandalf hadn't been willing to explain it to him. He had said that the only thing that mattered was that _he_ knew what it was, and that _he_ knew what he needed to do to fix it. All Bilbo needed to do was be there for her when she needed him.

When Gandalf had told him that, a sick feeling had crept into Bilbo's stomach, and he had wanted to vomit. _I should have just stayed. Maybe I could have prevented this._

Somehow, however, he knew that wasn't true.

"Are you ready?" Gandalf asked, glancing down at him.

Bilbo nodded, weakly, and then the two of them stepped forward. The doors opened, like someone had seen them coming and had ordered them to. Indeed, when they walked through, Dwalin was waiting for them on the other side.

Bilbo glanced around the main hall, and was surprised by the amount of Dwarves that were walking around it, going up or down stairs, talking with one another. None of them looked happy, however.

 _Do they know that their Queen is sick?_

"Ah, Dwalin," Gandalf greeted, approaching the Dwarf. "It is good to see you."

"Aye," Dwalin answered. "It is a relief to see you, wizard. Thorin asked me to bring ye to her straight away, and he apologizes, for he knows the two of you are weary from your journey."

"Cheyanne is more important than the both of us, currently," Gandalf said simply. "Lead on."

Dwalin dipped his head, and headed for the staircase on the opposite side of the hall. As they walked, Bilbo gazed around in amazement. A lot of the Dwarves in the main hall were giving both him and Gandalf curious looks, but the wizard was ignoring them, so Bilbo decided to do the same.

Dwalin led them up the stairs to the throne hall, and then up a different set of stairs. As they neared the top, Bilbo could feel a tangible shift in the air. Up here, it was gloomier. Cheyanne must be nearby.

"This is the royal apartment," Dwalin announced, coming to a halt outside a large, stone door. Bilbo stared up at it, and gulped. Only fear for what he might find inside registered within his thoughts, and he stood stock still for several moments, until a gentle voice spoke in his ear.

"Breathe, Bilbo, if you remember how."

He opened his eyes and found Gandalf standing beside him. The wizard's knuckles were white on the hand that was circled around his staff, and dark shadows of worry were beneath his eyes. Still, he gave Bilbo a kind, reassuring look.

"I am afraid," the Hobbit admitted, his voice weak.

"As am I," Gandalf agreed, "but we are here to help, and the first step is to go in and show her we are here."

Bilbo managed to inhale and exhale, though both were patchy. He nodded. "All right."

Gandalf stepped forward and rapped lightly on the door with his free hand. After a moment, it opened, revealing Thorin. Bilbo inhaled again at the sight of the Dwarf, only sharply this time.

Thorin's own eyes were circled, only the darkness there was much worse than Gandalf's. He was very pale, as well, and Bilbo had to wonder when the last time he had gone outside had been.

Still, he smiled when he saw the two of them, and Bilbo was sure it was genuine.

"Thank Mahal you're here," he said.

"How is she?" Bilbo demanded, deciding not to waste any time. His cousin was so close, and now he needed to see her, no matter what she may look like.

Thorin simply shook his head, and pulled open the door. "Tread lightly," he advised as Bilbo started through. "She frightens easily."

Bilbo stepped with more caution into the apartment. As soon as all three were in, Thorin cut in front of them. "Perhaps I should tell her you are here first, to prepare her," he said, and then looked at Bilbo. "It is good to see you, Master Baggins. You look well."

"I wish I could say the same of you, Thorin," Bilbo answered.

Thorin merely smiled sadly, and then went into a room on the other side of the parlor. He was gone for a few moments, and then he reappeared, waving his hand.

Gandalf pushed Bilbo forward first, and the Hobbit inhaled before stepping into what he assumed was the bedchamber. As soon as he did, he frowned, sadness digging its claws into his heart.

Cheyanne lay in bed, propped up on a pillow. Her cheeks were hollow, and the darkest circles Bilbo had seen yet were under her eyes. She was pale, which only made them look worse. Her hair looked limp, and faded of color, and her eyes, which fixed on Bilbo immediately, had lost all of their glow.

Still, the smile she gave him helped Bilbo's hopes a bit.

"Good to see you, cousin," she said to him, her voice soft and coarse.

"Chey…" Bilbo crossed the room to the bed, and he stopped beside it, keeping his eyes on her face. "I… I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Cheyanne said "I made a mistake, when I sent you away."

"No," Bilbo said, shaking his head. He reached for her hand. "I made a mistake by letting you." He leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'm here to help you in anyway I can."

"Really?" Cheyanne asked, gazing up at him with a dim light of humor in her eyes. "I thought that was what Gandalf was going to be doing."

"I will certainly try," the wizard said, coming into the bedchamber next. Cheyanne's eyes finally left Bilbo's, and she turned to him.

"Hello, Gandalf," she greeted, smiling with less pleasure than she had when she'd seen Bilbo. "I'm glad you're here."

"As am I, Cheyanne," Gandalf answered as he walked over to stand beside Bilbo.

"Do you know what's wrong with me?" she asked him, gazing up at the wizard.

Gandalf exhaled, and glanced around at the others before looking back down at her. "Yes," he said. "I do, and I know how to help you, but first I need something in order to know exactly what to say in order to help."

Cheyanne's eyebrows drew together, and Bilbo frowned when her lip quivered slightly. She took her eyes off of the wizard and looked down at her blanketed legs.

"All right," she said quietly after a moment. "Where are we going?"

Gandalf shook his head. "I'm having someone bring it to us."

Cheyanne's head raised, and she blinked up at him in concern. "Is that a good idea?"

"Yes," Gandalf answered. "The person I entrusted with the task is very trustworthy. You know him."

Cheyanne didn't look as though she believed him, but she didn't ask for the name of the person. Instead, she sighed. "Whatever you say, Gary."

Everyone looked at her in surprise, and Cheyanne squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "You're Gandalf. I'm sorry. You're only Gary sometimes, when I don't remember that I'm Cheyanne Baggins, and when I'm Cheyanne Phillips. I don't know why that is." She opened her eyes again and looked at the wizard, who looked the most worried out of everyone in the room. "Why are you in both my lives? I mean, you should be, as Gandalf… but…" She trailed off and exhaled slowly. "My head hurts."

"Do not strain yourself," Gandalf said, placing a gentle hand on top of hers. "We can discuss it later on, when you feel a bit better." He looked at Bilbo. "Would you like to be with her alone for a while?"

"If Thorin doesn't mind." The King had positioned himself at the foot of the bed, and looked ready to dive across it to push Bilbo or Gandalf away if they did something to upset Cheyanne further. His fists had been clenched, but they opened, slowly, when Bilbo spoke.

"Fine," he said shortly, "but I will be waiting in the parlor."

"As will I," Dwalin said, narrowing his eyes.

"Noted," Bilbo said meekly.

Cheyanne held out her hand for Thorin, and he pushed through Bilbo and Gandalf to reach her. He took her hand between both of his, and placed his lips against the back of it. Cheyanne reached up with her free hand and placed it on his cheek.

"Are you -?"

"I'll be fine," Cheyanne promised. She looked over at Bilbo. "He helps."

Bilbo didn't understand how much that meant, but Thorin did, and his posture relaxed. He kissed Cheyanne's forehead, and then stepped away from her. As he passed Bilbo, he gave him a thankful pat on the shoulder. Bilbo nodded in return.

Gandalf ushered the two Dwarves out of the bedchamber, and Bilbo pulled up a chair next to the bed so that he wouldn't have to stand. Cheyanne gazed at him.

"I'm sorry that you cannot go rest," she said to him. "I know you must be exhausted."

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't feeling awful, like Gandalf seemed to think you would be," Bilbo answered. Cheyanne's eyes darkened, and Bilbo panicked a bit. "I - sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she said quietly, closing her eyes. "I just… you came on a good day. Stick around for enough time before Gandalf gets the thing he needs, and you'll see the bad ones."

Bilbo swallowed. He did not want to see the bad ones.

"How... _bad..._ are they?" he asked her.

Cheyanne shook her head, and Bilbo saw her shoulders shake slightly, as though she had shivered. "I don't really remember them, and none of the others like to remind me, but… I know that I… think I'm in a dream, and that none of the others are supposed to exist. Thorin and Fili and Kili are supposed to be dead, on those days."

Bilbo didn't respond, and she glanced at him. "What about me?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "What… where am I?"

She closed her eyes again. "I don't think you want to know, Bilbo."

"No, I do," he said, reaching for her hand. "Tell me, please."

Cheyanne opened her eyes, and looked at him. He gazed back at her, his eyes wide with worry, and she frowned in concern. "You know already," she whispered after a moment. "You've… you've already experienced it."

Bilbo withdrew from her, leaning back in his chair, and he turned his eyes to the floor. "I'm going to send Gandalf in," he said quietly. "It's best if you talk with him on a good day, rather than on a bad one."

He slid off of his chair and made for the parlor. "Bilbo, wait," Cheyanne said. Bilbo stopped, his hand on the door. "What… what do you know about a ring?"

Bilbo's breathing hitched, and it took him a moment to calm down before he could speak again. "I'll get Gandalf."

Without waiting for more, he exited the bedchamber. Thorin immediately stood up from where he was sitting. "What's the matter?" he asked Bilbo.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging. "I decided that Gandalf should talk to her while she's feeling like this, rather than when she's feeling…" He trailed off, seeing on the others' faces that they knew what he meant.

"I'll go speak with her, then," Gandalf said, standing. As he passed Bilbo, he gave the Hobbit a knowing look, which Bilbo ignored.

Thorin approached him. "We've set up rooms for the two of you in the hallway parallel to this one," the Dwarf said. "Dwalin, will you show him?"

Dwalin nodded, and gestured for Bilbo to follow. The Hobbit did so, his hand reaching into his pocket as soon as they were out of the royal apartment. His fingers traced over the thin gold band of the ring he had found in the Misty Mountains, the one that seemed to speak to him.

He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the royal apartment, frowning. _How does she know about it?_

Back in the bedchamber, Gandalf took the seat Bilbo had vacated in a hurry, and he simply gazed at the bedridden Hobbit. She gazed back.

"Gandalf," she began at last. "Why are you in my other life as two different people? I know a Gandalf and a Gary as Cheyanne Phillips, and, apparently, they're the same person, but different."

Gandalf let out a breath. "Cheyanne, I wish I could explain it to you, but… part of the reason you are ill is because you know me as Gary as well. These memories that you are remembering, the ones where you are Cheyanne Phillips, are not supposed to be with you."

"But Gandalf, why do I see the deaths of my husband and nephews?" Cheyanne demanded. "Why do I see Bilbo lose his mind because of a ring? Why do I see this… this fiery eye that seems to want to swallow me whole every time I look into it? What… who am I, and why do I think that these Dwarves and my cousin are book characters?"

Gandalf wished that he could tell her, but he knew it was best if he did not. So, he shook his head. "For your sake, I cannot answer these questions."

"Well, then tell me one thing, at least," Cheyanne insisted. Gandalf looked at her, and Cheyanne met his gaze evenly. "Was I… at one point… actually Cheyanne Phillips? Did I live on this… Earth? Did I work in a bookstore? Was… Gary my boss?"

"Technically, those were four different questions, but the answer to all of them is yes," Gandalf said. "The memories you have of that life are real, and they are yours."

"So… what am I doing here, then?" Cheyanne asked. Gandalf gave her a look, and she frowned, turning away. "Fine," she said. "Just… get rid of them, all right?"

Gandalf nodded. "I will." Though inside, he was worried, because, if it had not worked the first time, there was little hope of it working the second time.

* * *

 **Well...**

 **This chapter ends on page 123 of a 157 page Google Document so...**

 **I'd say we're only a few chapters away from the end, my friends.**

 **Let's go.**


	19. Misty Mountains

**So, this isn't exactly the climax, but it is the climax of Jon's mini-story within the larger story, which is a hint towards the actual climax arriving pretty soon.**

 **Also, the end of the chapter is really effective if you listen to Imagine Dragon's _Bleeding Out_ while reading it. You'll see why when you get there.**

 **And, this is the longest chapter of the entire Fiction.**

* * *

"I've noticed you do not carry a weapon," Legolas tossed over his shoulder as he moved swiftly ahead of Jon. "A dangerous thing."

"I'm not much of a fighter," Jon answered, carefully walking around a large stone that was in his path. "More of a lover, really."

"And Gandalf chose you to go into the caverns of the Misty Mountains? Alone?" Legolas sounded incredulous.

 _I don't blame you._

"Gandalf is a pretty close friend of mine," Jon explained. "He trusts me. Maybe he figured that I could get into the caverns of the Misty Mountains without having to fight my way in. They're supposed to be abandoned, right?" Legolas didn't respond for a moment, and Jon frowned, picking up his pace a bit so he could see the Elf's face. He leaned forward and peered at him. " _Right_?"

"Even if they are," Legolas began, glancing sideways at Jon, "there are other dangers to worry about. Middle-earth is not a place for unprotected travel, no matter how much we would like it to be."

"I know that much," Jon grumbled, focusing his eyes on the ground once more.

"No, Jonathan Davenport of the Bywater," Legolas answered. "You know nothing of the dangers the wilds of Middle-earth hold. Goblins, trolls… maybe even Orcs."

Jon's frown grew with each of the evils that the Elf named, and he shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said. "I have to get that thing Gandalf asked me too. It's… it's life or death."

He could feel Legolas stiffen, even from the distance apart they were walking. The Elf came to a dead stop, and Jon stopped as well, bowing his head.

 _Dammit_.

"Life or death?"

"Yes," Jon sighed. _No point in keeping it to yourself any longer, Jonny Boy. Time to let it all out._

He turned to face Legolas. "The… the Hobbit who married Thorin Oakenshield is very sick. Gandalf has been summoned to the Lonely Mountain to cure her, and he needs… he needs an incantation that's written in the book we're retrieving from the Misty Mountains."

He lifted his eyes from the ground when Legolas was silent, and he saw the Elf was gazing at him without blinking. Jon, however, did blink. "The Hobbit is my friend. Gandalf knew I would never let anything happen to her that I could stop, and that's why he asked me to get the book. Anyone else… anyone else would give up as soon as one bad thing happened. I can't stop at all."

Legolas continued to stare at him, and when it looked as though he was finally going to speak, there was a snap from the trees nearby. Immediately, the Elf's head turned in that direction, his bow coming off of his back, an arrow in the string.

He backed up into where Jon was standing, pushing him backwards against a tree and staying there. Jon leaned around the Elf, watching the trees.

"Do not speak," Legolas warned, his voice no higher than a whisper. "We are being watched."

"Wh -" Jon cut himself off as he saw movement in the trees, and he swallowed the whimper that rose in his throat. He leaned forward towards Legolas's ear. "What is it?"

Legolas didn't respond. Instead, he pulled the arrow back tighter in the bow string. "Whoever is out there needs to come out right now, or I'll let this arrow fly into one of your eyes!" he called.

"Not necessary," a voice replied. Jon stopped holding in his breath and relaxed as soon as the owner emerged from the trees, hands up. "I'm a friend."

"Dwarf," Legolas muttered, not lowering his bow.

Bofur. This _was_ a surprise. Jon gaped at the Dwarf as he came further out of the trees, Ori following after him. How had they found them?

Bofur smiled. "We heard that you were on a quest of sorts."

"Where did you hear that?" Legolas queried.

"Well… let's just say Gandalf has many friends," Bofur answered. He looked at Jon. "You the one?"

"Am I the one what?" Jon retorted.

"Come on," Bofur said with a sigh. "There's no need to be like that. We all know why we're here, and I suggest that we learn to trust one another."

The worst of his shock passed by, Jon was able to move out from behind Legolas and closer to the two Dwarves. "Why did Gandalf send you?" he asked Bofur.

The Dwarf glanced at Ori, who was fiddling with his slingshot. He watched him do so for a moment before turning back to Jon. "It wasn't Gandalf, laddie. It was Thorin."

"She needs him in Erebor," Jon concluded. "I get that. What about…"

"Fili and Kili? Or Dwalin?" Bofur merely shook his head. "If any of them were to leave the mountain… Cheyanne would not be all right."

As Jon thought through this, Bofur turned to Legolas. "Remember us?" he queried, holding out his arms.

"An Elf rarely forgets someone whom he has imprisoned," Legolas replied stiffly. "Especially someone who escapes from imprisonment." He stared at Bofur, and Bofur stared back.

Jon shook his head and looked at Ori. "Does… does Gandalf know you came to find me?"

"No," the young Dwarf said with a shake of his head. "Unless Thorin sent him another letter. He's in Rivendell, with Bilbo." Ori frowned. "Rather… he was. I suppose he's almost to Erebor now. You were hard to find, Jon."

"Yeah," Jon said, chuckling. He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "I haven't really had much cause to wander Middle-earth and plan a route to the Misty Mountains."

"Which is why I'm here," Legolas said, still staring at the Dwarves. "Your help is not needed. Come along, Jonathan Davenport."

"Hold on, Legolas," Jon said, placing a hand on the Elf's shoulder before he could walk away. "We do need them, probably."

Legolas frowned as he took Bofur and Ori in once more. "Why?" he finally asked.

"You said so yourself," Jon answered. "Middle-earth is dangerous, and I don't have any skills in any form of fighting. If we get caught in a bad situation…"

"Do you think I could not handle it?" Legolas queried, turning his glare towards Jon.

"No! I know that you're very skilled in archery and… knife things," Jon told him. "I just… a group of goblins against you and me? The odds aren't very promising." Legolas continued to glare at him, and Jon gestured towards the Dwarves. "We need them."

"The Misty Mountains? Gandalf was right, then. It is a dangerous journey," Bofur said when Legolas didn't speak. He nudged Ori. "Ori's had nightmares about our adventures there."

"But I want to help Cheyanne!" Ori said. He looked at Jon. "She's nice to me."

Jon had to smile. She was nice, to those who deserved it, and occasionally to those that did not.

He could see from Bofur's face that Cheyanne held a place in his heart, too. "Thorin hasn't told anyone but the Company and Dis about Cheyanne's dreams," he said softly. "He trusts his guard, of course, but I don't… if the news were to get out…"

"I understand," Jon answered.

"You didn't tell me about it because you feared I would tell someone else," Legolas concluded, watching Jon carefully.

Jon nodded, turning to him. "That, and I figured that you wouldn't want to help if you knew I was helping the Dwarves of Erebor."

Legolas inhaled, and then glanced away into the woods for a moment. He then exhaled and looked at Jon again.

"The Queen is in danger, and that means the Dwarf King must be worried," he said. "If the Dwarf King is troubled, Erebor is troubled. My father is trying to repair relations with the Dwarves, and was succeeding. If things were to change, only bad could come of it." Legolas shook his head. "We must get this book, for the sake of both kingdoms."

"Everything all right?" Bofur queried from where he and Ori still stood.

"Yes," Legolas replied for Jon, and the Elf turned and went back over to the Dwarves. "If we hurry, we will reach the foot of the mountains by nightfall."

"Lead on then," Ori offered, gesturing with his hand.

Legolas nodded, and glanced over at Jon, who was watching him in surprise. "Are you coming, Jonathan?"

Jon nodded after a moment, and went over to the Elf. "Come on."

The four continued on the path, with Legolas in the lead, and Jon walking behind him, wondering where in the world Legolas Greenleaf had come from.

Just as Legolas said, they reached the foot of the Misty Mountains at nightfall, and they decided to set up camp and continue up the mountain in daylight. Ori and Bofur had settled into sleep by the time Jon decided to join Legolas on watch, and he crawled away from where he'd tried to make a bed in the foliage. He relaxed again when he reached where Legolas was sitting on a rock. Leaning back against it, he glanced up at the Elf.

"Legolas," he began, and he looked down at him.

"You should be resting," Legolas said.

"I know," Jon responded, letting out a heavy sigh. He turned his gaze towards where the two Dwarves were sleeping beside the small fire Legolas had started. "Thank you."

"For what?" Legolas inquired.

"For… everything," Jon said, returning his attention to the Elf. "You could have left a long time ago, could've let me get eaten by those spiders. But you didn't." He frowned. "Why is that?"

Legolas didn't respond for a long moment. When he did, it was not an answer that Jon expected: "Because we're companions. We look out for one another."

Jon frowned. "Companions?" He had been expecting Legolas to say something like, 'Because I expect to get compensation for helping you later on.'

"Yes," Legolas answered. "You know. Friends." He met Jon's gaze. "I'd go so far as to say brothers, but you have yet to save _my_ life."

Jon saw he was grinning slightly, so he knew it was a joke. Nonetheless, Jon glanced downwards. "I do owe you my life. Perhaps that debt will come in handy sometime soon."

"Do not say such things," Legolas sighed. "No harm will come our way. As you said before…" He nodded towards the sleeping Dwarves. "We have help."

Jon smiled to himself. "You're right. I appreciate you deciding not to turn them away."

"I doubt they would have left." Legolas looked down at him again. "Their Queen is in danger."

Jon nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, "she is. Their… compellment to come with us is sort of based on the same basis as mine."

"How so?" Legolas queried.

"You know… Cheyanne is my friend. My… my first real friend," Jon explained. "It's not like I could simply choose not to help her. Like them, I only had one choice, although it was on a different level. They're doing this for their ruler. I'm doing it for my best friend."

"You could have said no," Legolas said after a moment. Jon merely shook his head.

"No," he replied quietly. "I couldn't have."

Legolas didn't say anything after that. Jon found himself beginning to doze off by the time Legolas spoke again.

"Jonathan, if we do not find this book… what happens?"

Jon, who was half-asleep by now, mumbled out his reply: "Bad stuff, probably."

Legolas frowned, but turned his gaze back to the Mirkwood treeline. "Yes," he agreed. "I suppose you're right."

The following morning, after trying (and failing, on Jon's part) to eat some of the food the Dwarves had with them, the four companions started to climb the Misty Mountains. Jon, who had little experience with climbing anything other than into his bed, found the rocky surface hard to gain any purchase on. Bofur and Ori, who had slightly more experience in climbing, didn't seem to be faring any easier.

Legolas, however, was hopping from crevice to crevice, from cliff to cliff, from overhang to overhang, with little to no pause. Jon had to call him to a halt more than once, so that he wouldn't get too far ahead of the rest of the party. The Elf grumbled every time he had to stop, but he did not complain when Jon gestured for help

They'd been climbing the mountain for a good two hours when Jon finally exhaled and glanced upwards to see how much more than had to go. He swallowed when he saw the peak of the mountain rising up into the low, gray clouds.

"Leg, hold on for a second," Jon called to the Elf. Legolas paused on a perch three feet above the heads of Jon and the Dwarves, who had barely made it to the overhang Legolas had stood on only four seconds prior.

"We aren't all as spry as you!" Jon continued, holding his arms up towards Legolas so that he could help pull him up.

"Well, maybe you should try to be," Legolas answered, smiling to himself. He took Jon by the elbows and hoisted him up the three feet onto his own ledge.

"Dwarves are not meant for climbing," Bofur grumbled as the two of them pulled him up next.

"We're meant for fighting and mining," Ori finished when it was his turn.

Legolas looked at Jon in exasperation, and he grinned back, putting a hand on his back. "Let's keep going, hmm?" he suggested, gesturing towards the nearby path that Legolas had been avoiding entirely.

Legolas exhaled, and rolled his eyes. "Fine. We won't take my short cut."

"Leg, you may be able to leap from overhang to overhang, but we cannot," Jon told him. He gestured to Bofur and Ori. "Come on, fellows."

He took the lead, using the path rather than Legolas's "short cut" of jumping from cliff to cliff. It suited most of the party better, but he could feel Legolas's grumbling from where the Elf walked at his side after a moment of hesitation.

Jon enjoyed traveling with the three of them. There was hostility between the two Dwarves and the Elf, but they all shared a common purpose, and Jon knew that they would work together to get to the book. Where the book was, well, he had no clue, but he was hoping it was in the main passage of the Misty Mountains.

He could see it in his head. The four would walk into the mountain, walk for three minutes, and then enter a big, cavern like area, where the book would be waiting for them on a pedestal. There would be no riddles or rhymes, no fighting goblins or trolls. They would just grab the book and shuffle on out of there.

Jon doubted that was how it was going to go, but it would have been nice if it was.

"Jonathan? Are you all right?" Legolas asked him.

Jon blinked, and glanced sideways at the Elf. "Yeah, I"m fine. Why?"

"You have the most curious look on your face, that's all," Legolas said. "Do you know where we are going once we get into the Mountains?"

"No," Jon responded, shaking his head. "I honestly do not, but uh… I'm hoping it will be easy enough."

"To retrieve a spellbook?" Legolas frowned. "I doubt it will be."

"Same," Jon admitted softly.

"Hey," Bofur called from behind them. Jon and Legolas stopped, and turned around to see Bofur and Ori had stopped a few feet down the path from them. Bofur was waving his arm. "There's an entrance right here."

Legolas and Jon exchanged a look, and Jon lifted his shoulders. "I don't know, Leg."

"Well, it is a way in," Legolas said after a moment. "Better than climbing the rest of the mountain with you lot. Come on." He led the way back down the path, and they joined the Dwarves. Ori was peering into the dark opening in the opening, frowning to himself.

"It smells like goblin," he muttered, backing away after a moment.

"Aye," Bofur agreed, glancing at Jon. "That is a smell that you don't forget."

Jon swallowed, and looked at Legolas. The Elf nodded.

"Nothing we can't handle," he said.

"But uh… where are we going, exactly?" Ori asked, turning to Jon. "Did Gandalf tell you?"

Jon once again looked at Legolas, who gestured to the Dwarves in a 'tell them' sort of way. Jon nodded, and faced Bofur and Ori. "Gandalf didn't know where the book is, and so… we're sort of just going in blind. But, I have hopes that it won't be hard to find."

The Dwarves exchanged a momentary doubtful look, but then Ori nodded, and Bofur inhaled before nodding back.

"All right, Jon," he said, looking at him again. "This is for Cheyane."

"Exactly," Jon agreed, managing a grin. "We're doing this for Cheyanne."

"We're wasting daylight," Legolas commented, looking up at the sky. "We should head in."

"Right. Come on," Jon said. He started to walk into the hole first, but he stopped after considering it a moment longer. He looked over his shoulder at Legolas. The Elf nodded in understanding, and took the lead instead.

Silence settled over the party as they made their way down the dark passage and into the mountain. Jon stuck close to Legolas, who'd withdrawn his daggers. The Elf seemed to be wary, and his head kept turning, as though he was trying to see everything all at once.

That did not give Jon very much confidence.

He could hear one of the Dwarves breathing, the sound echoing around the tight passageway. Jon had to wonder if whatever lurked inside the mountain could hear it as well, and he glanced over his shoulder. Bofur was studying the ground, making sure not to trip over something. Ori was the one panting.

"Ori," Jon whispered, and the young Dwarf looked at him. Jon put a finger to his lips, and Ori closed his mouth, eyes wide.

Legolas glanced back and shushed them both. "Something's down there," the Elf muttered, gesturing with his head down the passage.

Jon stiffened. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Legolas admitted, turning back towards the passage, "and I doubt we want to find out."

"What if the book is down there?" Bofur asked from behind Jon.

"That's what I fear," Legolas responded, exhaling. He looked over his shoulder at Jon. "What say you, Jonathan?"

Jon glanced around at his three companions, and then sighed to himself. "I don't know," he said quietly. "Do we have much of a choice?"

"No," Ori said, looking at Bofur.

"We don't have any choice," Bofur agreed. "If there's a chance the book is down there, we have to look."

Jon nodded, and glanced at Legolas. The Elf was the only one who didn't have any reason to agree to go into the caverns. Jon wouldn't blame him if he decided to leave the Dwarves and Jon to do it on their own.

And yet, Legolas merely nodded as well. "All right," he said. "If we're to continue, we must be on our guard." He handed Jon one of his daggers, and Jon blinked down at it before looking back up at Legolas. "All of us."

"I don't know how to use this," Jon hissed to him, and Legolas patted him on the shoulder.

"It's instinct when your life depends on it." The Elf turned and started down the passage again. Jon gaped after him. Bofur started past when Jon didn't move.

"He's right, laddie," the Dwarf said. "It is instinct when you're life's on the line."

Jon exhaled, and tightened his grip around the knife. "Guess we'll see how good my instincts are, then," he said, and continued on down the passage ahead of Bofur and Ori once again. The two Dwarves exchanged a look, before Bofur shrugged in response to Ori's silent inquiry.

The two continued on after Legolas and Jon, holding their weapons tighter than they had been.

They reached a division in the passageway not long after, and Legolas held up his hand for a halt. The Elf pressed himself against the wall of the cavern, and leaned around it. Jon watched the Elf's expression change as he looked and listened.

"Anything?" Jon asked softly, and Legolas frowned.

"Goblins," he replied softly. Behind Jon, Ori and Bofur started muttering, and Jon glanced back at them.

"We can handle them," he said.

"The Company could barely handle them," Ori responded. "We only escaped because of Gandalf." The young Dwarf shook his head. "We don't have Gandalf with us this time."

"No, but we have Legolas," Jon said, smiling. He gestured to the Elf, who was still peering into the darkness of the passageway. "I don't know if you've seen him fight, but -"

"Silence, all of you," Legolas said suddenly. Jon snapped his mouth shut, and Legolas tilted his head in one direction of the passage. "They know we are here."

Jon forced himself to keep from screaming as soon as Legolas spoke. Instead, he bit his tongue and raised the dagger Legolas had given him when he heard a strange screech come from the direction Legolas's head had tilted.

The Elf straightened, and waved his hand to the others. "This way," he said, and started down the passage in the opposite direction.

Jon hurried after him, aware of the two Dwarves close behind. Legolas darted down the passage, pausing only once as another screech traveled down it towards them, closer this time. He turned around, and gestured for Jon and the Dwarves to keep going ahead of him.

"What? No!" Jon exclaimed as Bofur and Ori kept running.

"You must find the book," Legolas told him.

"But -"

"Jonathan." Jon met his gaze, and Legolas shook his head. "You have no choice." He turned Jon around by the shoulders and pushed him forward after the Dwarves. "Go. I'll hold them off."

"Legolas…"

"Jon!" Bofur called to him from down the passage, and Jon glanced over his shoulder towards Legolas once more before he sighed and hurried after the Dwarves. Bofur grabbed his sleeve. "Where are we going?"

"Down," Jon responded, barely pausing. "Come on."

They hurried down the passage, it getting darker with every step they took. Jon could barely see by the time Bofur spoke from behind him.

"I think something's up ahead," he called.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked him without stopping.

"I mean -"

Bofur was cut off when Jon let out a yelp and stumbled forward into nothing. He fell into darkness for what felt like ages, but the fall ended after a few moments. He landed hard on a rock, and let out a weak groan before rolling off of it.

"Jon!" Ori called after him.

Jon grunted, and sat up in pitch black darkness. "I'm fine!" he called back, blinking and trying to adjust his vision. "I just… can't see anything."

"Here." Something dropped onto his head and bounced into his lap. Jon went grabbing through the darkness, and found himself holding a long matchstick. "Light that!" Bofur said.

Jon shook his head, and scratched the match against whatever surface he was sitting on. Immediately, a small red flame burst up on the end of the match, and Jon blinked against the light. He held the match away from his face, only to find himself sitting a few inches away from a rock. Raising the flame, he saw that the rock was actually part of a big cliff. Up at the top, he assumed, were Ori and Bofur.

Jon exhaled, and turned away from the cliff, holding the match up in the other direction. He had fallen off the cliff into what seemed to be an open space of some sort. Whether it was large or small, he could not tell with the little amount of light he had.

"I can't see much," he called up to the Dwarves, "but… I think I'm in a cavern."

He could hear a noise from somewhere close by that sort of sounded like dripping water. Jon turned towards the sound and started to follow it, not seeing much choice. As he stepped forward, something metal clinked against stone beneath his foot, and he looked down.

Legolas's dagger sat on the stone ground, blade glinting weakly in the match light. Jon inhaled and bent down to retrieve it.

"I'm going deeper in!" he shouted to the Dwarves. "I don't know where this cavern will take me, but I hear water, somewhere!"

"You don't have to shout, laddie." Jon let out a yelp of surprise when Bofur's face materialized through the darkness. "We're right here."

"How did you -?"

Ori appeared next to Bofur, and gestured. "There was a set of stairs."

Jon exhaled, and handed the match to Bofur. "Come on," he sighed. "We need to follow the sound of the water."

"Why?" Bofur asked him.

"I don't know," Jon admitted after a moment. "I just feel like it's important."

Bofur and Ori exchanged a glance. "Lead on, then," Bofur said. "We're following you."

Jon nodded, and took the lead in the direction that he thought he heard the water coming from.

Darkness soon enveloped them again as the fire on the end of the match burned out. Jon switched all his energy into focusing on his hearing. He kept going, barely aware of Bofur hanging on to the back of his shirt so that the Dwarves wouldn't lose him in the darkness.

Jon closed his eyes as the water dripping seemed to get louder. In fact, it started to grow into a dull roar, and Jon stopped when he thought it was clearer than it had been for a long time.

"Do you hear that?" he asked the Dwarves.

"Yes," Bofur responded, stepping up beside him. "That… sounds like a waterfall."

" _Inside_ the mountain?" Ori sounded incredulous. He stepped up on Jon's other side. "But…"

Jon kept going forward towards the sound of the waterfall. For whatever reason, he reached out a hand and felt it touch a wall of stone. Frowning, he moved his hand along the wall he was faced with until his hand found nothing but air. He stepped forward again, and moved his hand upwards. He touched stone once more.

"Another passageway," he said to the Dwarves, who had continued to follow after him.

He stepped forward again, and again. Suddenly, light flooded his vision, and he had to close his eyes to keep from going blind from how quickly it arrived.

"Jon?" Bofur asked, tapping his shoulder.

Jon exhaled, and opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He blinked again when he realized where he had led them.

They had found another cavern, this one filled with water that came from the waterfall filtering in from one of the walls. A strange blue light emitted from a few torches that lined a stone pathway across the water towards a rocky island in the center of the small lake the waterfall had formed.

Jon was amazed. The cavern was beautiful.

"Ah," Bofur said. "There's your water, Jon."

"But what are we doing in here?" Ori asked, glancing at him.

Jon shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll bet that there's something on that island."

Bofur and Ori looked towards it, and towards the ominous blue-flamed torches that lit the pathway leading across to it. Jon knew why they were hesitant, but he saw no other choice. Something important, the book or otherwise, was waiting on that island. And they needed to know what it was.

So, he inhaled, hiked up his breeches, tightened his grip on Legolas's dagger, and started across the pathway. Bofur and Ori barely hesitated before following when they saw he was going.

Jon glanced around the cavern as he crossed the pathway, wondering where the torches had come from, and why in the world their flames were blue. He decided that questioning such things was worthless, and kept going.

The island, which had seemed to be covered in rocks, turned out to only have a rock wall. The center was hollow, and when Jon saw what was sitting in the middle, his breath caught in his throat.

"What is it?" Ori asked from behind him, leaning around. "Oh!"

Bofur joined them, and blinked in surprise. "That was easier than expected."

Sitting on a pedestal, just like Jon had imagined, was the old, brown leather book that Gandalf had told him about.

"I can't believe it," Jon said, shaking his head. "There's no way."

"Well," Bofur decided, smiling a bit, "stranger things have happened."

Jon took a step towards the pedestal. When nothing immediately jumped out of the shadows and attacked him, he took another, and then another. When he reached the pedestal, he picked up the book. It was heavy, and rather bulky, but he hadn't expected anything less.

Turning around the face the Dwarves again, he cradled the book against his chest and grinned. "Come on," he said. "Let's find our way out of here."

"Jonathan!" He heard Legolas before he saw him, and grinned wider when the Elf appeared from out of the passage leading into the cavern. He lost his grin entirely, however, when a herd of goblins raced in after him.

"Oh, shit," he said, backing into the pedestal, holding the book a bit tighter.

"To the fight, Ori!" Bofur declared, and then he let out a cry and jumped towards one of the goblins.

Ori followed Bofur's example, pulling a stone back in his slingshot and sending it flying into the head of one of the goblins that was chasing Legolas.

Jon ducked behind the pedestal, deciding that he would be of no use in this battle. He pressed his back against it, hoping it was wide enough to conceal him from the goblins.

When he heard one snarling from the other side, however, he realized he'd put too much hope into such a thing. Jon inhaled and glanced down at the book, and then at Legolas's dagger. It was just one goblin. He could fight _one_.

Grunting, he leaned around the pedestal and dug the weapon into the goblin's exposed neck. The creature hissed, but died at the end of the knife, and Jon withdrew the blade from it, huffing.

"Jesus," he said under his breath, eyeing the blood on the end of the blade, and feeling rather lightheaded.

"Jon!" He glanced up when he heard Bofur say his name, and found the Dwarf fighting off one of the goblins near the edge of the pathway. "Run! Get out of here, and get that book to Erebor!"

"But…"

"Go!" Bofur insisted, ducking under the goblin's blade before tackling the creature into the water around the island. Jon blinked, and looked towards Ori. The young Dwarf was fending off two goblins, a small dagger flashing as he stabbed at one and then slashed at the other.

Legolas was taking on at least five of them, and Jon could tell he was struggling without the use of his other dagger. He wanted to go over to the Elf and give it back, but he had a clear shot to the passageway that would take him back into the first cavern, and the stairs up the cliff he had fallen off of.

If he was going to leave, this was his chance.

Jon glanced between the passage and Legolas once more, and he swallowed. He couldn't leave them here.

He set the book down on the pedestal again and hurried towards where Legolas was fending off the goblins. The Elf's eyes grew when Jon flew onto one of the goblins and dug the dagger into it's back, pulling it away from the fight.

"Jonathan, what are you doing?" Legolas exclaimed, using his other dagger to stab at a different goblin.

"I'm helping my companions," Jon responded, finishing off the goblin he was fighting. He pulled the knife out of it, and met Legolas's gaze. "It's the right thing to do."

Legolas started to say reply, but he stopped when he saw Jon's eyes grow. "Legolas, watch out!" he shouted, and then he dove towards him.

The next few events seemed to happen in reduced time. Legolas watched Jon dive directly into the path of a goblin knife that was flying towards himself. The knife hit Jon in the side, and he let out a grunt of pain as he hit the floor. The knife clattered down to the stone near where Jon fell, as did Legolas's own. Legolas reached behind him into his sheath of arrows and withdrew one. He took aim with his bow, and fired an arrow into the goblin that had thrown the knife. It sank into the goblin's chest, and the creature flew backwards into the water.

With that, time returned to normal, and the sounds of the battle disappeared. The fight was over.

"Jonathan!" Legolas exclaimed, darting around a dead goblin and towards the fallen man. Jon was breathing heavily, but he _was_ breathing. His eyes fluttered as Legolas crouched down next to him. His hand reached up and gripped at Legolas's arm. "Don't worry," Legolas assured. "You'll be fine."

He glanced downwards towards where he knew Jon's injury was, and frowned as soon as he saw it. The goblin's knife seemed to have been laced with poison, because the bared skin around the deep cut in Jon's side was already being latticed with black.

"Legolas?" Bofur and Ori came up to where they were, and Bofur immediately gasped when he realized what had happened. "Oh no."

"Jon…" Ori began, starting to crouch down as well. Legolas warned him to stop with a silent gaze, and Ori froze, not looking away from the Elf as he stood back up again. Legolas returned his attention to Jon's wound.

"You'll be fine," he said again, reaching for the pack that was hanging around his shoulders.

"Legolas…" Bofur started. "We need to get the book to Erebor."

"So take it," Legolas muttered without looking up as he began to root through his bag. "I must help him."

"Leg…" He glanced up from his bag when Jon started to speak, weakly. He met Jon's eyes, and his companion swallowed. "You… you have to go with them… through Mirkwood."

"No, I won't leave you here to die," Legolas responded immediately.

"Legolas, please." The Elf stopped again, and Jon's grip around his arm loosened. "You have to help them through Mirkwood. D-don't waste time. Chey -" He stopped speaking and licked his lips. "The Queen needs your help, too."

"I hold no allegiance to the Queen Under the Mountain," Legolas said stiffly, pulling an herb out of his pack.

"No, but…" Jon hesitated, and forced his eyes to stay open long enough to meet Legolas's again. "We're brothers, now, and she's my best friend." Legolas exhaled, and Jon managed a grin. "If we really are brothers, you'll help her."

"Jonathan…"

"Legolas, I… I didn't come to Middle-earth thinking I was going to come out alive," Jon told him, swallowing again.

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, frowning.

"I mean that… I'm not actually from the Bywater," Jon replied quietly. "Gandalf brought me to Middle-earth from my real home so that I could get the book. That's why you found me in such a strange location. It's because I fell into Middle-earth, for lack of a better word." He let out a weak breath. "I didn't think that… I'd last long here. With you, though… you made it a lot easier. You made it less scary."

"Jonathan -"

"You're still here, and I'm asking you to do this one last thing for me," Jon insisted. "You helped me so far, and I don't know how I will ever repay you."

"You saved my life," Legolas said slowly.

"And I'm asking you to save Cheyanne's in exchange for my own."

"Jonathan, I refuse to leave you to die in the caverns of the Misty Mountains," Legolas decided after staring at him for a moment. He looked at the Dwarves. "Go to Mirkwood and keep to the path."

"Legolas!" His gaze snapped back down to Jon, whose fingers had tightened considerably around Legolas's wrist. Their gazes met, and Jon swallowed thickly. "I'm going to die here."

"No, you are not," Legolas said sternly.

"Yes I am," Jon responded. He offered the Elf a thin smile. "This is where my story ends. I need you to let this happen. Please." There were tears in his eyes, but he was still smiling.

Legolas closed his own and turned his head away from his companion. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Jon behind, but he'd seen the poisoning from the wound already infecting him. There was no point in trying; he was a skilled enough healer to understand that much. That didn't mean he could just leave.

But Jon was asking him too, and Legolas now had a debt to pay. Jon was letting him pay it by leaving him behind.

Legolas inhaled deeply and then let it out quicker. He then looked down at Jon, who was gazing up at him through blurry eyes.

"Please, Leg," he whispered, a tear running down his cheek. "Go."

Legolas nodded, once, and then leaned down and pressed a very brief kiss against Jon's forehead.

"I will not forget you, Jonathan Davenport," he murmured. Then, without letting himself look back, he turned and stalked towards the cavern's entrance. Jon watched as Bofur stayed behind long enough to grab the book before going after him. Ori lingered a moment longer, and then he, to, was gone.

Jon turned his head so that he was gazing upwards, and stared at the ceiling of the cavern. It was covered in crystals that glittered blue in the torchlight, and their glittering urged him to close his eyes.

 _I did it, Chey. Please be okay._

* * *

 ** _So I bear my skin_**

 ** _And I count my sins_**

 ** _And I close my eyes_**

 ** _And I take it in_**

 ** _And I'm bleeding out_**

 ** _I'm bleeding out for you (for you)..._**

 **RIP Jon Davenport, December 2nd 1989 - Whatever Month and Day I Wrote This Chapter, 2016**


	20. The Mirror of Memories

Bilbo exhaled when Oin finally emerged from the King and Queen's bedchamber into the parlor where he was anxiously waiting with Thorin, Dwalin and Gandalf.

"Well?" Thorin asked the healer. "Is she getting worse, or is this just food poisoning?"

Cheyanne had woken up feeling very sick, and she had not stopped vomiting since after her small breakfast. Bilbo didn't know what to think, especially since the Queen had hardly eaten since he and Gandalf had arrived at Erebor. What she was vomiting, he had no idea, but it was very scary.

Oin let out a breath, and looked around at everyone. "She is not getting worse," he said, "and it's not food poisoning."

"What is it then?" Dwalin demanded, crossing his arms.

Oin's gaze settled on Thorin. "The Queen is with child," he said.

Bilbo was taken aback. He looked at Thorin in shock, and saw just how shocked the King was as well.

"Thorin?" Gandalf asked, and Thorin blinked a few times before looking at the wizard. "When could this have happened?"

Thorin's shoulders rose and fell, and he glanced around. "A month ago," he said quietly. "That was the last time, and the only time since this started."

No one spoke for a very long time, until Bilbo frowned to himself and looked at Gandalf. "You helping won't do anything to the baby, right?" he asked quietly.

"No," Gandalf assured. "What I'll be doing will affect Cheyanne's mind, not her body." He exhaled and looked at Thorin. "I would congratulate you, but I'm afraid that our current situation does not inspire much hope for the child's sake."

"Must you speak like that?" Dwalin questioned sourly. "This is the heir to the throne you are referring too."

"I know very well that it is the heir," Gandalf responded, "but I am also being realistic. If the book does not arrive soon, and Cheyanne continues vomiting the way she is, without eating… both she and the child will become malnourished, which is very, very dangerous."

Thorin turned and headed into the bedchamber without speaking. Bilbo glanced between Gandalf and Dwalin before going after him.

Cheyanne was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she looked up when Thorin and Bilbo entered. It was, thankfully, one of her good days, although not as good as the day Bilbo and Gandalf had arrived. She kept asking for reassurance about whether or not she was remembering correctly, which she was.

Most of the time.

"Did Oin tell you?" Cheyanne asked Thorin, who walked over to where she sat and took her hands in his.

"Yes," Thorin responded gently. "Cheyanne -"

"No, I don't want to know," Cheyanne said quickly.

Bilbo frowned when he heard this.

"What do you mean?" he asked, walking over to them. "Oin didn't tell you?"

"I told him I didn't want to know," Cheyanne explained. She met Thorin's gaze. "Is it bad? Like we thought?"

Thorin looked at Bilbo, who lifted his shoulders in response. If Cheyanne truly did not want to know, then who were they to tell her? Once she was better, they could tell her the news, but until then…

Thorin returned his attention to Cheyanne, who was watching him. "No," he said softly, smiling a bit. "It's not bad, I promise."

Cheyanne let out a breath, and returned the smile. "Good. That's all I want to know." She groaned, then, and pressed a hand to her belly. "But I do feel awful."

"Cheyanne, I know the last thing you want to do right now is eat, but I think you should try to eat something," Thorin told her.

Cheyanne frowned at the idea, but nonetheless nodded. "I'll try," she said quietly, "but if I vomit again, I'm going to be very angry with you."

Thorin nodded in acceptance.

"I'll go get something," Bilbo said, and he turned and exited the bedchamber.

As he did so, he found Gandalf pacing the corner of the parlor, and Dwalin sitting quietly in one of the armchairs, his eyes on the floor.

"Thorin's convinced Cheyanne to eat something," Bilbo announced to them. Gandalf looked up first, and the Hobbit rubbed at his nose. "She, uh, she doesn't know about the baby."

Dwalin looked up this time. "What? Why?" he asked.

"She didn't want Oin to tell her," Bilbo responded quietly. He turned his gaze to the floor and made his way out of the apartment to retrieve some food. Kili and Fili were coming down the hall as he left, and Bilbo frowned when he saw their expressions. "What's the matter?" he queried.

"They have the book," Fili responded. "Bofur and Ori… they have the book that Gandalf needs."

Bilbo's eyes went wide. "Where are they?" he exclaimed, started to push through the princes towards the stairs.

"Easy, Bilbo," Kili said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "They wanted Gandalf to come to them."

"What, why?" Bilbo demanded. "Cheyanne needs them up here."

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance. Before either of them could respond however, Gandalf appeared from the royal apartment, the door flying open and banging heavily against the wall.

"They are here," he said, starting down the hall towards where Bilbo stood with the princes. "Where?"

"In the throne room." Gandalf started that way, Bilbo hurrying after him, but Fili called them to a halt. "There's a problem!"

Gandalf let out a breath, and turned around to face the princes. "I know," he said quietly. "Tell your uncle and Dwalin that the book is here, and to get Cheyanne in bed." He turned back to the stairs, his shoulders straightening. "I will return shortly."

Bilbo followed after Gandalf, skidding a bit on the tile floor in his haste. Gandalf flew down the stairs into the throne hall, and slowed to a halt when he reached the bottom.

Legolas Greenleaf was present, as were Bofur and Ori. Jonathan Davenport, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Gandalf sucked in a breath and bowed his head, his eyes closing for a moment. Bilbo watched him in confusion, wondering why he had stopped.

Gandalf opened his eyes again and continued on towards the three companions. Bofur handed him the book without hesitation, but Gandalf's gaze was fixed on Legolas.

"Jonathan?"

Legolas's head bowed, and he shook it, slowly. Gandalf exhaled and glanced down at the book.

"Thank you all," he said softly. "Cheyanne will be able to get better now, because of you. Jonathan… he knew what he was meant to do, and he did it. That is all that matters."

Legolas let out a scoff and began to stalk away. Bofur and Ori exchanged a look, and then went after the Elf, their heads hanging. Gandalf watched them go, then he turned and went back to the stairs.

"Who's Jonathan?" Bilbo asked him in confusion.

"Jon was a good friend of Cheyanne and I," Gandalf explained.

Bilbo glanced downwards. "He's dead, isn't he?" he whispered.

"It appears that way, Master Baggins," Gandalf replied.

They made their way back to the royal apartment, and Dwalin, who was still seated in the parlor, grinned when he saw Gandalf had the book.

"That's it, then?" he asked. "Once ye do whatever you need to with that, this will be over?"

"Yes," Gandalf responded, glancing down at what Jon had died for. "Is Thorin with her?" Dwalin nodded, and the wizard sighed. "He can't be in the room while I'm doing this."

"Good luck trying to convince him of that," Dwalin said, but all the same he opened the bedchamber door for Gandalf and Bilbo. The Hobbit hurried over to the bed, where Thorin stood with Cheyanne's hand clasped in his. They both looked up at the door opening, and Cheyanne smiled wearily when she saw the book in Gandalf's hands.

"That's it, huh?" she asked him. Gandalf nodded, and Cheyanne let out a breath. She looked at Thorin. "This will be over soon."

Thorin smiled, and he pressed a kiss against Cheyanne's head.

"Thorin." He looked up and over at Gandalf. "You and Bilbo will have to leave the room until this is over."

"What? No, I am not leaving," Thorin responded. He looked down at Cheyanne again. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?" he asked the wizard.

"Because it's dangerous for you and her if anyone other than myself is present," Gandalf said. "I will be… tangling with the concept of memories, Thorin. Having memories other than Cheyanne's in the room is not a good idea."

"Thorin." Cheyanne spoke up, and the King met her eyes. She smiled at him. "It's all right. Gandalf knows what he's doing. I don't want you in danger, either."

Thorin sighed, and then he glanced from her face to her belly, and back again, but subtly enough that Cheyanne didn't notice. "I will be right outside in the parlor," he promised her. "Dwalin and Bilbo as well."

Cheyanne merely nodded, and Thorin pressed a gentle kiss against her lips before stepping away from the bed. Bilbo took his place, and Cheyanne turned her smile to him.

"Cousin… you won't leave Erebor again for a long time, all right?"

Bilbo chuckled, and shook his head. "Not until I want too. I guarantee that much."

"Good," Cheyanne said.

Bilbo rested his forehead against hers for a moment, and then he backed away from the bed and went over to join Thorin near the door. They both glanced at Cheyanne one last time before exiting the bedchamber. Thorin made sure the door closed all the way behind them.

"How long will it take?" Dwalin asked, and Thorin shook his head.

"I don't know."

Back inside the bedchamber, Gandalf approached the bed, and Cheyanne watched as he opened the book and flipped through the pages for a moment. He finally settled on one, and he glanced up at her.

"Are you ready?"

"Of course I am," Cheyanne responded. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Gandalf actually chuckled a bit at that, and he nodded. "All right, you're right." He sighed to himself. "I'm going to put you under a deep sleep spell. You might have some… odd dreams."

It was Cheyanne's turn to laugh. "Odder than the ones I've been having?"

"No," Gandalf responded, "I suppose not."

"Well, then." Cheyanne relaxed onto the bed. "Spell me."

Gandalf exhaled heavily and gazed down at Cheyanne. He'd known all along that it wouldn't be possible. His magic wasn't strong enough to completely remove her memories of her earthly life. He had two choices, both of which did not suit him whatsoever. He could leave Cheyanne the way she was, let her suffer from her memories in her dreams and when she woke, or... he could return her earthly memories to her entirely, restore Cheyanne Phillips as she was before, but... in the body of a Hobbit.

One would involve a lot of explaining to everyone... but the other would involve leaving everyone unhappy.

Gandalf had been struggling with this decision since he'd realized Cheyanne's memories were beginning to fight with one another. He hadn't known what to do. The journey from the Shire, and Bilbo's injury, and the waiting for the book had given him extra time to choose.

Now, however, his time was up. He had to make a decision. And there really only was one, that properly made up for what had happened, especially to Jon.

The wizard exhaled, and reached out a hand, placing it on Cheyanne's head.

Immediately, Cheyanne relaxed further into the bed, falling into a deep, deep sleep.

She woke up in a field, like one you'd find in the Shire, lying on her back. She sat up and smiled happily when she saw Bilbo standing nearby.

"Bilbo!" she started, waving to her cousin. He didn't look at her, and actually turned and began to walk away from her entirely. Cheyanne frowned in confusion, and stood. "Bilbo, wait!" she exclaimed, running after him.

Oddly enough, however, Bilbo seemed to be walking faster than she was running, and she soon lost sight of him. Cheyanne stopped running, and let out a frustrated sigh before looking around again.

She hadn't noticed, but she had run straight out of the field and into Dreamer's Books and Other Media. Cheyanne looked around in surprise.

"Gary?" she asked, heading towards the store's counter and back room. When she walked into the back room, she found herself standing in her apartment instead. Jon was seated on the couch, watching one of The Hobbit movies. From the screen, she assumed it was The Battle of the Five Armies.

"Oh, Jon, you know we don't watch that one in my apartment," Cheyanne sighed, going over to where he was. She sat down on the couch beside him, but ended up falling on her butt into a chair at the Bean Machine instead. Confused, she frowned down at the chocolate chip muffin and iced caramel mocha sitting in front of her.

She was hungry, however, and so she reached for the muffin, ready to take a bite out of it. The muffin disappeared, however, and she found herself holding a fork with a mouthful of mashed potatoes on it. She looked up from the mashed and found her father sitting across the kitchen table in their home, reading a sci-fi novel like usual.

"Daddy," she started, "are we going to see the stars tonight, and you'll tell me more names?"

Her father looked up from the novel, and smiled. "Of course, Cheyanne," he said. "As soon as you finish your dinner."

Cheyanne grinned, and she put the fork of mashed potatoes into her mouth. With she pulled it out, it was a lollipop, and she was back in Dreamer's. A much younger Gary was smiling down at her.

"Thank you for your help today, Chey," he said to her.

"Did you give Jon a lolly, too?" she asked him, looking over to where her friend stood by one of the bookshelves.

"No, I didn't," Gary replied. He reached behind the counter and pulled out another lollipop. "Here you go."

Cheyanne carried the lollipop over to Jon, who reached out a hand to take it. What she passed to him instead was a copy of The Hobbit, and they were sitting in their third grade classroom.

"Your parents let you read The Hobbit?" Jon asked in amazement.

"Yep," Cheyanne replied proudly, her voice very high pitched. "I've read Hobbit twice, and Lord of the Rings once." She grinned. "The Hobbit is my favorite."

That statement echoed over and over again as Jon and the classroom suddenly disappeared, and Cheyanne raced forward through time. She saw Gary's face, and then her mother's and father's. She saw her first meeting with Jon, again, and then she saw herself helping Gary at Dreamer's as a young child. She saw her parents' caskets being lowered into their grave at their funeral as she clutched Gary's hand tightly in her own.

She saw herself as a teenager, lonesome aside from Jon and her books and music. She saw herself graduate from high school while Gary cheered and cried in the audience. She saw herself attending community college and graduating with a Bachelor's in Creative Writing. She saw herself struggling to find the right story, but finding solace in the newly created Hobbit movies. She saw Jon losing his mind along with her as they attended the first showing together.

She saw herself working at Dreamer's again, and trying so hard to get Gary to read her writing. She saw the day her life changed forever with a single dream.

She saw her first meeting with Balin, and then of the other Dwarves, and Gandalf and Bilbo, too. She saw her seeing Thorin for the first time in person, when he looked at her in the strangest way. She saw her discussion about the dream with Jon, and then with Gary later on.

She saw her and Dwalin laughing about something as they sat beside a fire, and she saw Fili watching from nearby.

She saw both her and Bilbo protect Thorin as he lay unconscious during the first fight with the Orcs. She saw her and Thorin sleeping together in Beorn's house. She saw the Company's escape down the river out of Mirkwood, and then she saw them race through Erebor, away from Smaug. She saw the dragon fall into the Long Lake from where she sat with the rest of the Company on the overlook she and Thorin had been married on.

She saw Gary, explaining to her why she was having the dreams and what it all meant. She saw herself saying goodbye to Jon, and then reading the letter from J. R. R. Tolkien, and making a decision. She saw herself go back to her apartment and fall asleep in it for the last time.

She saw herself waking up with the knowledge of what she had to do. She saw herself screaming at Thorin, who was deep into the dragon sickness. She saw their first kiss after he had returned to himself, and she saw her save Thorin by throwing the rock he had given her at Azog's head. She saw him propose to her, and she saw her meeting with Dis, and the Dwarves' acceptance of her as their future Queen. She saw her wedding to Thorin, and she saw their first night together as a married couple.

She saw herself struggle with the dreams and her new position as Queen. She saw herself collapsing in the hallway, and then telling Dwalin and Fili what was happening to her, and why. She saw herself trying to explain it to Thorin, his complete shock, and then their attempts at righting whatever was wrong with her as they waited for Gandalf to arrive at Erebor.

Darkness enveloped her vision, and then… she opened her eyes, and found herself lying in the bed in the royal apartment's bedchamber.

Gandalf sat in a chair nearby, smoking a pipe. He smiled when he saw she was awake. Cheyanne struggled into a sitting position.

"Gandalf," she said, and then frowned. "Gary?"

"Both," he answered, rising to his feet. He walked over to where she lay on the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Like a train ran over me," she replied earnestly, putting a hand against her forehead. "Ugh."

Gandalf gave her an apologetic look, and glanced downwards. "I think you should rest."

"I'm hungry," Cheyanne said, looking up at him. "Is… where is everyone?"

"Outside in the parlor," Gandalf responded. Cheyanne started to get up, but Gandalf rested a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. She raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. "A few things have changed. I must go speak with them first, and then I imagine they'll want to come see you."

"They… they don't know, do they?" Cheyanne asked him. "About where I came from."

Gandalf hesitated a moment, and then shook his head. "No, they don't know," he confirmed, and Cheyanne deflated a bit. "Don't worry. I will explain it."

"But, if they don't know, then… why bother?" Cheyanne queried.

Gandalf actually offered a smile, and he settled down on the edge of the bed. "Well, I figure that if it's always going to be apart of you, you cannot keep it from your family."

Cheyanne returned his grin. "Thank you, G," she said. "Really."

Gandalf merely leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Leave it to me, Cheyanne," he said. "After all… I am the author."

Cheyanne chuckled, and settled back against her pillows again. Gandalf rose from his spot on the bed and made his way across the bedchamber towards the parlor door. He inhaled, prepared himself, and stepped out into the parlor, closing the door behind him.

Immediately, Thorin bounced to his feet. "Well? What's happened? Is she all right?"

"As far as I can tell," Gandalf responded. Thorin let out a relieved laugh, and looked over at Dwalin.

"Did you hear that? She's all right!" the King exclaimed, and Dwalin relaxed backwards into the armchair he was seated in.

"Thank Mahal," he sighed, closing his eyes. "It's finally over."

"However…" Everyone in the parlor, which included Bilbo and Fili as well, turned sharply to him. Thorin's eyes flashed.

"However, what, wizard?" he questioned, his voice a low growl.

Gandalf glanced between his hostile gaze and Dwalin's, and then towards Fili's curious one, and Bilbo's confused. Finally, he exhaled.

"I think it's best if… everyone hears this," Gandalf said.

Thorin turned to Dwalin. "Go get Balin and fetch the Company. Now."

Dwalin nodded and sharply turned, ready to go.

"Ah, not just the Company," Gandalf said before Dwalin could leave the apartment. Everyone turned to him again, and the wizard put both hands over the top of his staff. "The entirety of Erebor."

Various reactions came from everyone. Bilbo blinked at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, as though he didn't know what to say. Fili didn't seem to be surprised by Gandalf's odd request, and he merely leaned back in the armchair he was seated in and crossed his arms. Dwalin didn't seem to care for the idea at all, and was glaring at Gandalf. Thorin was just staring at him, his face giving away nothing, as usual.

"Why? What is so urgent that we alert the entire kingdom?" the King inquired, voice void of emotion.

Gandalf glanced around at them all. Finally, he exhaled and turned his eyes back to Thorin.

"Surely, throughout the course of her illness, Cheyanne told you what she had been dreaming of. Am I correct?"

Thorin nodded, slowly. "Another life that she was certain she had lived once before." A careful realization settled into his eyes as he continued to study the wizard. "Are you suggesting that this other life was real?"

"I am confirming that this other life was real, and that it is her only life," Gandalf responded with a nod.

Thorin frowned at him, and looked at Dwalin. The older Dwarf was still glaring at Gandalf, although it was a different sort of glare, more of a cautionary one.

"What's that supposed t' mean?" he asked.

"It means, Master Dwalin, that Cheyanne is not from the Shire," Gandalf responded. He glanced at Bilbo. "Cheyanne is not your cousin."

"But…" the Hobbit began, and then he trailed off before actually saying anything. He didn't know _what_ to say.

Gandalf waited to see if anyone would say anything. Finally, Thorin spoke, but it was not something Gandalf wanted to hear: "She is not the Cheyanne we know, is what you're saying."

"No, that is not it whatsoever," Gandalf responded. "She is exactly the same. She merely has different memories of her past, now. Everything since the journey ended is the same for her as it is for you; it's everything beforehand that changed."

Thorin frowned, and Gandalf sighed outwards. "Cheyanne used to live on a place called Earth. On Earth, she had a life where she knew all of you, and the entirety of the Middle-earth, as things from a book called The Hobbit. The author of the book had originally written a character that was meant to save Thorin's life. Cheyanne is that character." Gandalf put a hand to his chest. "On Earth, my name is Gary. Just like Gandalf did for Cheyanne in Middle-earth, Gary took care of Cheyanne on Earth after her parents died. We're both originally from Earth, but the author of _The Hobbit_ wrote us as characters, too. The rest is just… magic."

Fili was the only one who seemed to be believing this. "On one of her bad days, Cheyanne seemed to believe that all of this was your fault," he said to Gandalf. "Is that true?"

Gandalf dipped his hand. "In a sense," he admitted. "Before the journey began, I brought Cheyanne into Middle-earth through her dreams. I wanted to change the ending of the story, make it the way it had been before the author had taken Cheyanne out, in order to save you, Thorin, and save Erebor as an after effect. Cheyanne came with the Company on the journey, knowing everything that was going to happen, and knowing that she was meant to save Thorin. Which is what she did, after deciding she wanted to stay in Middle-earth for good. And now she's here, with Earth Cheyanne's memories, but in the body of Middle-earth Cheyanne."

Everyone remained silent for a very long time. It ended when Bilbo shook his head. "So… we're all book characters?" he asked, blinking.

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed. "You could technically say that Cheyanne left the real world, and entered a fictional world, meaning Middle-earth."

"So, even though she's a book character, too, she's not at the same time," Bilbo said slowly, trying to make sense of it all.

"Exactly," Gandalf responded. "Very good, Master Baggins."

Dwalin, who'd been silent for a very long time, finally looked up. "Why couldn't you get rid of these… Earth memories, and just leave the Middle-earth ones?" he inquired, almost accusatorily.

"Unfortunately, my magic is not strong enough to completely replace Cheyanne's entire life," Gandalf said. "I had thought it was, and it is what I originally tried to do, after Cheyanne made the decision to stay in Middle-earth." He nodded to Fili. "The reason she started having these nightmares is because it didn't work."

"But the Middle-earth memories are gone, now," Fili said. "Entirely?"

"Up until the end of the journey, yes," Gandalf answered. "She has memories of everything that has happened to her in Middle-earth after you reclaimed the mountain from Smaug. Everything before then is what happened before she decided to stay, rather than what I tried to make them."

"But… she's the same…" Dwalin cut off, not knowing the right word. "... she's the same Cheyanne?"

"She's the same one you all know and love," Gandalf assured. "I promise you that. Nothing aside from her memories up until… a year ago or so has changed."

"Why does everyone need to know this?" Fili asked. "Isn't it safer for Cheyanne if no one else knows about this Earth?"

Gandalf shook his head. "I've considered this for a very long time, Fili," he began. "Cheyanne is Queen Under the Mountain. Her people… they deserve to know who their Queen is, and why she's special." He glanced at Thorin. "And they deserve to know that their future King or Queen is special, too."

Thorin was gazing stoically at the ground. When Gandalf said this last part, however, he looked up. "The babe will be from two different worlds," he said carefully. "Will this affect anything?"

"Not unless you want it too," Gandalf responded.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you can inform the child of its heritage, how it is half reality, half fiction, or you can keep it hidden away." Gandalf gazed at Thorin. "It's your choice, but Cheyanne deserves to have a say as well."

"Cheyanne does not know," Dwalin pointed out.

"Not yet."

Thorin turned his gaze to the door, and exhaled. "May I see her? Please?"

"Of course," Gandalf responded. "Talk it over with her, make your decision together. What I have suggested is merely that: a suggestion. You do not have to tell all of Erebor if you do not want to. You do not even have to tell the remainder of the Company, if you do not want to. As I said before, it is your choice."

Thorin dipped his head, and walked past where Gandalf stood and too the door leading into the bedchamber. He opened it after a moment's hesitation, and then stepped in, making sure to close it behind him.

When he turned around to face the bed, he blinked, for he could not believe what he was seeing.

* * *

 **Whoops, is that me, cutting chapter in half in order to make it better?**

 **Hell yeah that's me, cutting a chapter in half in order to make it better.**


	21. Farewell to Nightmares

The bags that had been under Cheyanne's eyes for months were gone. Her complexion was back to its normal shade. Her eyes were bright and glimmering. Her lips and cheeks were pink and healthy. Her hair bounced about at its length a few inches below her shoulders, thick and shiny. She looked… perfect, despite having been ill not two hours before.

She noticed Thorin's staring, and she lowered her own gaze from his.

"It's a shock, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Gandalf's magic is powerful, just… not powerful enough to do the one thing that would have made this easier for everyone."

Thorin exhaled. "Cheyanne…" He approached the bed slowly. He wasn't afraid, just… wary. If she was not the same as she had been before the illness…

She raised her eyes when he stopped beside where she sat, and they met gazes again. Thorin studied her for a very long moment. Cheyanne sat silently, and let him do so.

Finally, Thorin reached out a hand towards where one of hers rested on the bed. Cheyanne let him take it in his own, and she watched their fingers join together, before she looked at Thorin again.

"You are not supposed to be a Hobbit," he said softly, his own eyes on their hands.

"Well… that depends on who you ask," Cheyanne said carefully. "The author of the book all of you are from planned on me being a Hobbit, and Gandalf thinks I'm supposed to be a Hobbit." She shrugged one shoulder. "I just… came out as a human instead. But I'm a Hobbit now."

"You do not belong in Middle-earth."

Cheyanne blinked at him. "That also depends on who you ask," she finally said, aware of her voice breaking. "Thorin? Do… do you think I belong in Middle-earth?"

The King said nothing for a very long time. He simply continued to study their joined hands, as though he were waiting for some sort of sign to appear within them. Cheyanne waited quietly, more afraid of hearing his answer the longer the silence ensued.

Thorin eventually glanced up from their hands and met her eyes again. His were shining with unshed tears.

"I believe that you belong with me," he replied, "which is why you returned to me, even after everything that has tried to keep us apart."

Cheyanne's head fell, and she released a quiet sob. She hadn't been expecting _that_.

Thorin let her hand go and pulled her forward so that her forehead lay against his shoulder. His hands circled on her back soothingly, and he murmured gently to her: "Shh, ' _ibinê_. You do not need to cry."

Cheyanne did her best to stifle her sobs, but it didn't work out. She turned her head so that she wasn't crying directly into his shoulder and sniffled several times.

"Sorry," she said. "I just… I didn't know how you'd react to this."

"Honestly? I'm more than a bit confused, but not entirely disbelieving. After all…" He paused and closed his eyes. "I've always wondered why you appeared from practically nowhere the day prior to the journey."

"What do you mean?" Cheyanne asked, leaning backwards so that she could look at him.

"I mean… I'm referring to you, my One, appearing to me just before the journey that would destroy or secure my legacy," Thorin answered. "You were the good omen that I needed, and I wondered why you had entered my life when you did." He smiled at her. "Now I know that it is because someone wrote it that way."

Cheyanne couldn't help herself. She let out a chuckle. "Strange, hmm?"

"Yes," Thorin agreed. "But not a bad strange."

Cheyanne smiled again, and Thorin couldn't help himself. He leaned forward, prepared to give her a deep kiss, but was interrupted when her belly let out a loud, hungry growl.

Thorin stopped only a couple inches away from her lips, and bowed his head, chuckling. Cheyanne let out a giggle of her own.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm sort of starving."

"We'll get you fed," Thorin assured. His eyes had found her belly and were fixated on it. "It's important that you eat."

Cheyanne realized what he was gazing at, and she stared at her belly for a moment as well, frowning to herself. Her eyes then widened slightly, and she looked up again in disbelief.

"I'm glad you're hungry," Thorin said quietly, "considering the vomiting you did all morning."

"Thorin…" He glanced upwards, and Cheyanne blinked at him. "Oin checked on me before Gandalf did his magic, didn't he?" Thorin nodded. "And… what did Oin tell you?"

"He told me that you're carrying a child," Thorin replied. Cheyanne gaped at him, and Thorin offered her a smile. "We're going to have a baby."

One of her hands flew to her mouth while the other immediately went to her belly. Thorin reached forward and covered it with his own, gazing at her all the while.

Her eyes closed, and then opened, and she slowly lowered the hand over her mouth. "A baby? Is he… is he positive?"

"I do not know, but Gandalf didn't disagree," Thorin said. "Cheyanne, we have a few things to discuss regarding this baby."

Cheyanne inhaled shakily, and nodded a few times. "Yes," she agreed. "You mean whether or not we will tell it about me." Thorin dipped his head, and Cheyanne exhaled slowly. "I believe it depends on what we tell everyone."

"Which is another thing we must discuss," Thorin added.

"Yes," Cheyanne said again. She drew her lower lip between her teeth and glanced downwards at her belly. "You know… we don't _have_ to tell everyone. It can just be… between us, and whoever else Gandalf has already told." She raised her eyes and met his. "It's not as though we need everyone to know."

Thorin gazed at her without blinking for a long moment. Finally, however, he looked downwards and exhaled slowly. "Cheyanne… the way I was able to lead my people after Erebor was lost was by not… keeping anything from them," he said, carefully. "I do not want to keep things from them now, either, especially something as big as this."

Cheyanne studied him in surprise, and Thorin finally raised his eyes and met hers again. He reached up a hand and placed it against her cheek. "If they were willing to accept you before, imagine what they will think now, knowing that we were written for one another."

Cheyanne had to smile at that, but then she shook her head. "When they learn that they themselves are written characters… what will they think?"

Thorin considered this for a moment, and then he smiled, too. "They will think that a happy ending has finally found them," he said softly, "and, truly, I believe one has."

Cheyanne couldn't help herself. She closed the distance remaining between the two of them and covered Thorin's lips with her own. Thorin let out a quiet breath against her mouth, and Cheyanne pressed into the kiss further, deepening it to a depth they weren't unfamiliar with. Thorin's arms closed around her waist tightly and pulled her across the bed and closer to him. Cheyanne's hands went to his hair and her fingers tangled within it as she tilted her head, humming into his mouth.

Thorin released a soft chuckle when she finally pulled away, their lips parting with a gentle, but resounding smack, and Cheyanne grinned at him.

"Sorry," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "I love you, that's all." She let out a light laugh and pressed a kiss to his nose. "You know, I loved you long before I saw the movies."

Thorin frowned for the first time when he heard this. "What, pray tell, is a movie?" he asked her, and Cheyanne let out a rambunctious giggle.

"It's hard to explain, but it's basically a visual book," she explained when the giggles had subsided. Thorin still looked confused, and Cheyanne shook her head. "Never mind. I'll try to explain it later." She leaned backwards away from him and glanced around the bedchamber. "How do we tell everyone, then? Gather them all outside of Erebor like when they returned, or do you have something more…" She glanced at him, her eyes sparkling. "... something more _party-like_ in mind?"

Thorin had to smile at the excitement in her gaze. "It's been several months since Erebor had something to celebrate," he admitted. "Perhaps the news of the Queen and the heir is… party worthy."

Cheyanne could barely contain her excitement. "I'd say so!"

Thorin laughed and leaned forward to kiss her again, savoring this one. When he withdrew, he let out a soft breath. "I missed you so much these last months," he murmured. "When Gandalf told me that your memories had changed, I feared _you_ had changed." He slipped a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "I see now that my worries were unnecessary."

"Thorin, I promise you that whatever you loved of Cheyanne with Middle-earth memories is still here," Cheyanne told him. "My memories may be different than they were, but the rest of me is just the same." She smiled at him. "Believe me, I have no reason to be different."

Before Thorin could respond, there was a knock on the bedchamber door. He glanced at her, and Cheyanne smiled before saying, happily, "Come in!"

The door opened and Dwalin came bustling through. He stopped dead when he saw Cheyanne sitting up right on the bed, mostly for the same reason Thorin had hesitated. She didn't look as though she'd been sick whatsoever. It was a shock.

Cheyanne, however, merely continued to smile. "Hello, Dwalin," she greeted. She slid off of the bed with Thorin's help and went over to where he stood, stock-still. "Everything all right?"

Dwalin stammered momentarily, and Cheyanne raised an eyebrow at him. He stopped, and lowered his gaze to the floor in order to regain his senses.

"Dwalin?" Cheyanne prompted.

The big Dwarf's shoulders shook a bit, and he sniffled. "I just… I cannot believe that you're all right," he said quietly. "All this time, all that worrying, and you're just… here." He lifted his gaze from the floor and glanced past her. "What has changed?"

Cheyanne exhaled, and shook her head. "Nothing," she said softly. "I promise, Dwalin. I'm the same as I was before. I just… have different memories, now. That's all."

There was a moment of silence where Dwalin continued to stare past her, and Cheyanne gazed up at him, hoping that he would look at her. Thorin watched the two of them, frowning to himself.

Finally, however, Dwalin closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were focused on Cheyanne, and she gave him her most reassuring smile.

"It's me," she said to him.

In response, Dwalin's arms went around her in a hug, and he exhaled slowly.

"Yes," he agreed after a moment of hugging. "It is you, thank Mahal."

He let her out of the hug after a moment, and grinned at her. "Sorry," he said. "I just -"

Cheyanne merely shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she said.

Dwalin wanted to say more, but Gandalf and Bilbo appeared in the bedchamber doorway before he could, and Cheyanne turned to them, pleased.

"Yes, food!" she exclaimed, going over to where they were. Bilbo gaped at her as she grabbed for the biscuits on the tray he was carrying and shoved them into her mouth. She noticed his expression a moment later, and glanced at him, a biscuit halfway to her mouth, which was still full of another.

Gandalf chuckled to himself as Cheyanne quickly swallowed down the biscuit she'd already put in her mouth, and grinned at Bilbo.

"Hi," she greeted. "Sorry. I'm just… really hungry."

Bilbo stared at her for a moment, and then he snorted to himself and looked up at Gandalf. "Not a Hobbit," he said, disbelieving.

That caused laughter to erupt from everyone in the room, and Cheyanne quickly took the tray Bilbo was holding away from him and set it down before throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

Bilbo returned the hug immediately, burrowing his face into Cheyanne's shoulder with a heavy exhalation. He didn't care what Gandalf said; Cheyanne was his cousin, and his best friend, no matter where she came from. And he was very happy that she was all right.

He could only hope that everyone else felt the same as he did, even when they learned the truth.

* * *

 **Hurray! Everything's better! Baby! Memories! No one's pissed off! Yet!**


	22. The Great Feast

**Would y'all look at this? The last full length chapter of the Fiction. Oh boy. What a journey it's been, writing basically everything from scratch, rather than with the help of the movies and the book.**

 **I think I did an okay job.**

 **Let me know once y'all finish reading.**

* * *

The celebratory feast was one of the quickest planned that Balin had ever been in charge of. Within twenty four hours, the kitchens were alive with cooking, the Gallery of the Kings was bustling with activity as Dwarves set it up for the banquet, and the main hall of Erebor was flooded with Dwarves coming and going, speaking excitedly to one another. The celebration was being held for a reason that none of them knew, and they were all very excited to find out what it was.

Some had guesses, and they were… partially correct. Balin hoped that they would celebrate that half of the news the King and Queen had to share with them, rather than focus on the unbelievable-ness of the other half.

Balin had been elated to hear that Cheyanne was better, but when Thorin had explained what had happened to her in the process, he'd become less so. He understood that Cheyanne was the same as she had been, but it was hard for him to process the idea that Middle-earth was not the only… plain of existence.

As someone who thought what he knew was the only truth, it was a shock when he was informed that what he knew was wrong. Nonetheless, that did not stop Balin from accepting Cheyanne as she was. After all, he had always thought there was something different about her. Now he understood why, no matter how odd it was.

And the babe! That was news enough for Balin, just as he hoped it would be news enough for the rest of Erebor.

The hour before the feast was set to begin brought with it a whirl of final touches to the food and the Gallery of the Kings. The Dwarves and Dwarrowdams rushed throughout the main hall and living quarters, hurrying to get to the Gallery of the Kings and get good seats before it became too crowded.

Balin knew that having a feast as grand as the one Thorin had declared would lead to difficulty. There was barely enough space in the Gallery of the Kings for half of Erebor's population. Thorin wanted _everyone_ present, however, and so tables had been built and rebuilt, in order to ensure everyone at least had a chance to sit down. Most, however, would probably remain standing.

Balin, along with the Company, would be seated at the head of the table, nearest Thorin and Cheyanne. It was lucky for them, that they were the group the King and Queen trusted the most, and the ones that already knew of Cheyanne and her condition.

Of course, they'd all given different reactions, but Bofur and Ori had seemed to be the most understanding. Balin had heard them talking about it after Cheyanne and Thorin had told them.

"That explains why Jon was… y'know," Bofur had said, and Ori had nodded in agreement. Balin, who didn't know who 'Jon' was, decided that asking would be worthless, and he'd left the two to their discussion.

Balin himself was shuffling up the stairs to the royal apartment at the present moment, to check on the Queen and King, and ensure that they were ready for their announcement. He politely knocked on the door of the apartment, and it opened a moment later.

Dis was on the other side, and she smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Balin," she greeted.

"My lady," Balin replied, bowing a bit. "How is the Queen?"

"Almost ready," Dis responded, stepping out of the way of the door. Balin entered the main parlor, and Dis went off to the bedchamber, passing Dwalin as he came out. Balin's brother beamed at him, and Balin nodded back. Everyone was much happier now that Cheyanne was better, and the whole atmosphere of Erebor seemed lighter because of it.

"How's everything downstairs?" Dwalin asked him, and Balin dipped his head.

"Everyone is rushing around and starving," he said. "Normal for an Erebor celebration."

Dwalin chuckled, and Cheyanne poked her head out of the bedchamber. "Oh, Balin!" she said, grinning. "Here to tell me to hurry up?"

"You, or Thorin, whoever it is that's taking so long," Balin replied with a smile.

"Very funny," Thorin grumbled, walking out of the bedchamber ahead of the Queen, who ducked back inside. The King was dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. A royal blue cloak dangled from his shoulder, bordered on the inside with wolf fur. He shook his head to himself. "She does not even have her crown on."

"That's the only thing I'm missing!" Cheyanne called from the bedchamber. "And it's about to be fixed."

Thorin shook his head again, but his eyes were glittering with amusement. Balin was pleased that Thorin was back to his old self. He knew that the last month or so had been the hardest, and Thorin had been very close to losing himself entirely once again. Now, however, the King was once again content and helplessly in love with his Queen, and, Balin thought, that was exactly the way it should be.

Cheyanne finally came out of the bedchamber, her crown sparkling on top of her curled hair, and she smiled warmly at everyone that was waiting for her. She was wearing one of her newly tailored dresses; it was white and covered in a gorgeous pattern of blue and purple flowers, complete with green stems that swirled amongst them. Her cheeks were powdered pink, and her lips were glossed. Her eyes glimmered bright blue as she slid her arm through the crook of Thorin's elbow.

"Are we ready?" she asked, looking around at everyone.

"I'd say so," Balin replied, smiling back at her. "Come along."

Dis, who'd come out of the bedchamber behind her, stepped up to Dwalin's side and smiled as she watched Thorin and Cheyanne exit the royal apartment with Balin ahead of them. She then glanced up at Dwalin.

"It's a miracle, isn't it?" she asked him, and Dwalin's shoulders lifted and lowered.

"Yes," he said. "I think it is."

They exited the royal apartment after the King and Queen, and, per Balin's instructions, took the lead so that Thorin and Cheyanne would enter the Gallery of the Kings last. Cheyanne smiled at them both as they passed, and Dwalin exhaled to himself. It was odd seeing her smile after so long of it being a rare sight.

The crowds that had existed in the main hall was gone, but the sounds of the chattering, excited Dwarves could be heard from the Gallery as the group approached. Balin nodded at Dis and Dwalin, and the two ducked into the Gallery while Thorin and Cheyanne lingered behind for a moment. Cheyanne couldn't help but try to peer into the room, and her grin grew when she saw all of her people gathered inside the long hall, seated at one of the many tables. The Company had their own place at the head of the main table, where two empty seats waited for her and Thorin.

Balin glanced at them. "Are you ready?" he asked softly, and Thorin looked down at Cheyanne.

Her grip around his arm tightened, and she nodded, once. "Yes," she said. "We are."

Balin dipped his head, and entered the Gallery of the Kings. Thorin leaned down towards her ear as a fanfare was played by a few Dwarves within, and he whispered, "Everything will be just fine."

Cheyanne nodded, because she knew he was right. Everything was going to be just fine.

The fanfare finished with a grand crescendo, and then Balin's voice rose from the silence that had settled over the Gallery of the Kings.

"Presenting Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, and his wife Cheyanne, Queen Under the Mountain!" he called.

Excited clapping and cheers rose up from the Dwarves as Thorin and Cheyanne entered the Gallery, and they grew even louder as more and more Dwarves caught sight of Their Majesties. Dwalin couldn't help but wipe away a tear when he saw how happy Cheyanne looked to be among her subjects, and Dis reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Dwarves of Erebor!" Thorin called as the clapping and the cheers quieted down. "My Queen and I have some good news to share with you all." Heavy anticipation settled over the room and Thorin pulled Cheyanne even closer to him before looking out at everyone. "She is expecting a baby."

This time, there was a bit of a delayed reaction, no doubt from the shock of this announcement. As soon as one cheer exploded from the Dwarves, however, the rest followed suit, and soon Dwalin thought he would go deaf from the noise.

"Because of this," Thorin stated as the cheering began to die down again, "we have decided to hold this celebratory feast."

More cheers, and Thorin glanced at Cheyanne once again. She met his gaze, and nodded slightly. Thorin nodded back, and he returned his attention to his people, who were watching the King and Queen with rapt attention.

"We also have something to share with you all that may seem unbelievable, and some of you may not like what you are about to hear, but we ask you to listen with open minds and hearts," he began.

Immediately, the quiet that had settled over the Dwarves turned from pleased to anxious. Cheyanne exhaled and lifted her gaze from the floor so that she could look around at… well, everyone.

"Citizens of Erebor," she began, carefully. "When Thorin first gathered the Company that would reclaim Erebor, I was not originally supposed to be apart of it. I joined when I sort of… appeared at the gathering point the night before the journey. And when I say appeared, I really do mean _appeared_.

"I do not come from Middle-earth. I… arrived here by means of a dream, that turned out to be very, very real." No one reacted to this, and Cheyanne let out another breath. "A long time ago, a man came up with the idea of another world, one that thrived with Elves and men, and Dwarves, too, and all the other creatures that we know. This man… he… he's the one that brought you all into existence.

"I know… it doesn't seem likely, but… it's the truth. He… he was the one who gave you this beautiful mountain home, and he was the one who had a dragon take it from you. But… he was also the one who gave you all a group of brave companions that did whatever they could to get it back. He was able to do all of these things because he was an author, and he wrote about it. You're all…" Cheyanne hesitated a moment, and then leveled her shoulders. "You're all book characters, and the reason we're all together right now is because it was written this way.

"And, a long time ago, that same man… wrote me out of the story, to give it a different ending." Cheyanne glanced at Gandalf, who dipped his head, and Cheyanne smiled a bit. "But… not so long ago, a different man, who'd also been written into the story, put me back into it by way of my dreams, because he thought the original ending was better, and that ending is the one we're experiencing right now."

Cheyanne looked around at everyone once again. "I may not be from Middle-earth, but believe me when I say that this is my home. The King and I wanted to share this news with you not because we wanted to frighten you, but because we wanted you all to be aware that things happen for a reason, and that there is more than our world in existence. Ours just happens to be made up." She smiled and rested her hand on her belly. "The heir to Erebor's throne will be apart of two different worlds, and we did not want to keep that hidden away, for the same reason we did not want to keep it hidden from all of you. It's the truth, and everyone deserves to know the truth."

Thorin reached out and took her hand, then, and Cheyanne let him, bowing her head. Thorin gazed at her for a moment, and then he turned his attention to everyone. "When you accepted Cheyanne as your queen, you did so because of my love for her. We ask that you accept this news of another world out of the belief that Cheyanne was always meant to be in Middle-earth, and powers unknown to us allowed it to be that way."

"Of course, we don't plan on… bringing the other world into this one," Cheyanne said quickly. "We only wanted you all to be aware, because your prince or princess will be… different, but not necessarily in a bad way." She shook her head. "You all will most definitely have questions, and I am here to answer them, of course. Some questions may be harder to answer than others, but… if anyone wishes to know more of the world I come from, I will share with you."

There was silence for a very long moment, and then one single voice called out, from near the back of the Gallery. "What is the name of this other world?"

Cheyanne smiled to herself. "Earth," she answered. "It is called Earth."

The Dwarves allowed that to settle in, and then the whispers began. Cheyanne looked up at Thorin, and the King smiled at her. "The feast begins now," he said to everyone. "Please, enjoy, and do not hesitate to ask questions. The Queen and I understand that you must all feel curious."

There was a moment, and Dwalin closed his eyes, afraid that it wouldn't come.

He needn't have worried, however.

" _All hail the King and Queen Under the Mountain!_ "

The call echoed off the walls of the Gallery of the Kings, and Cheyanne seemed to suck it in as Thorin led her over to their places of honor at the head of the table.

"That was very good, Cheyanne," Balin told her, and the Queen dipped her head graciously.

"I hope so. I wasn't exactly sure how to put it." She gestured towards the long table, and the others surrounding it. "Everyone seems to be taking it okay, though." She glanced at Gandalf. "I wonder if someone had something to do with that."

The wizard winked at her, and Cheyanne shook her head at him before sitting down in her chair. She glanced around at everyone as they all began to dig into the food waiting on the table in front of them, and she frowned to herself, feeling like something was… missing.

"What's the matter, _bunanuné_?" Thorin asked her, seeing her expression.

"I don't know," she admitted softly, although something within her told her she knew exactly what the problem was. She looked over at Gandalf, who was studying his empty plate. Cheyanne's frown deepened, and she started to stand, ready to go over to him, when the doors to the Gallery of the Kings opened with a loud bang. A gasp rose up from everyone, and Cheyanne stood completely, gazing towards the doors.

There was a moment before anyone appeared, and then there was Legolas, carefully leading someone in behind him. Cheyanne's hand flew to her mouth, and then she ran around the table and towards the two that were entering the Gallery. Thorin rose, ready to go after her, but hesitated when he saw her slow down as she neared Legolas and whoever the Elf was leading.

Cheyanne gently approached the two, and paused a few steps away, gaping at Legolas's companion. Tears burned the corners of her eyes as she lowered her hand and managed, "J-Jon?"

Jonathan Davenport raised his head, and managed a grin for her. "Hey, Queen," he greeted. "Good to see you."

Cheyanne couldn't help herself. She let out a sob and closed the distance between them, hurriedly putting her arms around her friend. Jon grunted a bit at the tightness of the hug, and Cheyanne quickly withdrew.

"Sorry, sorry!" she said, looking at him worriedly. "Are you all right? What hurts? Gandalf!"

The wizard hurried over to them and gently placed a hand on the spot of Jon's injury. He murmured something, and his hand glowed briefly before he removed it and Jon let out a quiet breath and straightened up.

"Jeez, Gary," he grumbled to the wizard, rubbing the spot. "You couldn't have done that a few days ago?"

Gandalf was ignoring him, and was instead looking at Legolas. "I had wondered where you'd gone," he said to the Elf.

Legolas dipped his head. "I couldn't leave him behind."

"Yeah, and thanks for that," Jon told him, allowing Cheyanne to hug him for real this time. He met Legolas's eyes from over her head. "Really."

Thorin had approached when Gandalf did, along with Bilbo and Dwalin. Cheyanne pulled out of the hug and glanced between Jon and Thorin.

"Thorin, this is Jon," she said, gesturing to him. "He's my best friend, from Earth."

"Jonathan." Thorin held out his hand, and Jon shook it, blinking at him. "I've heard much about you. Thank you, for helping to retrieve the book Gandalf needed in order to help Cheyanne."

"N-no problem, Your Majesty," Jon said quickly, dipping into a bow. "It was sort of an obligation." He finally managed to look away from Thorin, and he focused on Bilbo, instead. His eyes widened again, and he laughed. "My God! Chey! I _told_ you that you look exactly like him!"

Cheyanne rolled her eyes while Bilbo blinked at Jon in confusion, and then looked up at Gandalf for an explanation. The wizard merely shook his head with a smile, and Bilbo turned his gaze back to Jon.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, and Jon clapped his hands together jovially.

"Pleasure's all mine, Master Baggins," he said, grinning.

"Jon, do you feel like eating?" Cheyanne suggested, gesturing towards where all the food waited. "You could probably help me answer some questions about Earth."

"Oh, so uh… you had to tell everyone, then?" Jon asked, and Cheyanne nodded.

"It was the best choice," she said, and then she glanced down at her belly. "For everyone."

It took Jon a moment to catch on, but when he did, he blinked rapidly. "Y-you're…?" Cheyanne looked up at him and nodded, smiling. Jon couldn't believe it. "I'm going to be an uncle!"

Cheyanne giggled, and slid her arms around him again, burrowing her face in his chest. "I missed you, Jon," she said softly.

Jon closed his arms around her and bent so that his face was buried in her hair. "I missed you too, Chey," he responded. "Gary came and told me that you needed help, and I -"

"And you came," Cheyanne finished for him. "Thank you, so much."

Jon chuckled. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Queen Cheyanne! Does this other world have music, still?" A Dwarf had abandoned their meal because of their curiosity and had approached the two of them.

Cheyanne peeled out of Jon's arms and nodded. "Yes, there's music," she replied, "although… it's different from what's here."

"And, you said that this man wrote us," the Dwarf said. "Does that mean we're in a book?"

"A very popular book," Cheyanne confirmed with a nod. She gestured to Jon. "My friend here has read it almost twenty times."

"That's a bit of an over exaggeration," Jon said, giving her a look, "but I have read it quite a few times." He gazed the Dwarf over, and surprised recognition settled onto his face when he realized who the Dwarf actually was. He glanced between him and Legolas, and back again, before smiling knowingly to himself and exchanging a look with Cheyanne. "It is a really good book, though."

"Yes," Cheyanne agreed, grinning as well and moving into Thorin's arms. "It really is."

"Could you tell us about it?" Another Dwarf had approached, along with several others, and they all eagerly looked at Cheyanne and Jon, eyes sparkling.

Cheyanne chuckled. "Enjoy the feast, my dears," she said to them. "I will tell you all about it someday soon, I promise."

The Dwarves parted with only a bit of sadness, and Fili appeared from amidst them. He gave Cheyanne a small smile, and she returned it, dipping her head to him.

"Jon," Gandalf said, "sit down and eat. You too, Legolas. The journey from Mirkwood is a lengthy one."

"Yeah," Jon agreed with a snort, "especially with a gaping wound on your side."

Legolas merely tugged on his arm and led him over to the table behind Gandalf. Dwalin shuffled Bilbo along after them, and he winked at Thorin and Cheyanne before following. Thorin watched them go, and then he looked down at Cheyanne.

"How do you feel?" he asked her.

"Better than I thought I would," she replied earnestly. "I thought it would be much more difficult."

Thorin chuckled. "Believe me, my Queen," he began, wrapping his arms around her waist, "answering their questions is going to be the difficult part."

"Theirs, and our child's," Cheyanne said, looking down at her belly. She was quiet for a moment, and then she glanced up at Thorin again. "We'll be able to handle it, though. Won't we?"

Thorin nodded. "I'm sure we will be," he responded. "With a little bit of help."

Cheyanne smiled warmly, and nodded before she took his hands from around her waist and held them. "Come on," she invited, starting to lead him back over to the table. "I'm starving."

The feast went on. Everyone ate, drank, laughed, danced and sang. Cheyanne had never been happier.

At one point, she actually found herself standing alone near the edge of the dancing space, and then there was a gentle hand on her arm. She turned and found Fili standing beside her. There was a moment where he merely gazed at her without speaking, and Cheyanne let him, knowing it was still a surprise to see her healthy and with color in her cheeks.

After a time, Fili's gaze met hers. "I need to speak with you," he said, softly, and Cheyanne frowned a bit, but nodded.

"Of course."

Fili's hand slid down her arm and into hers. He gently led her away from the dancing Dwarves and behind one of the many pillars lining the hall. Cheyanne gazed up at him in confusion, and concern.

"What's the matter?" she asked him, and Fili blinked at her.

"You… you don't know?" he questioned, and Cheyanne raised her eyebrow.

"I don't think so… should I?"

Fili stared at her in disbelief. "You don't… you don't remember that… that lunch? On the balcony? With the… the rolls?"

Cheyanne shook her head. "Gandalf must've taken it away," she said. "Why? Was it important? I'll go yell at him if I need to."

Fili gazed at her, and then he leaned around the pillar and examined the Gallery. He spotted Gandalf standing not too far away. The wizard met his gaze coolly, and Fili bowed his head in understanding.

"Fee?" Cheyanne promoted, and he lifted his gaze to hers. She was clearly amused by the entire situation, because her eyes were glittering with mirth.

He smiled weakly. "No," he said. "No, you don't have to say anything to him. It's all right."

Cheyanne shrugged. "Okay, if you're all right with it." She then held out her hand. "Come dance with me."

Fili hesitated a moment, but not long enough for her to notice. He slipped his hand into hers, and let her pull him towards the dancing Dwarves.

* * *

 **...**

 **C'mon, did anyone actually think Jon was dead?**

 **Sorry if I scared y'all, but I thought it was an effective addition. And, besides, Jon'a necessary for the... uhm. The totally not in the works final edition to this series.**

 **...**

 **Yeah, that's believable.**


	23. The Breaking of the Wall

**And this is it. The epilogue. Start the Fiction short, and end it short.**

* * *

Several days later, Thorin and Cheyanne joined Legolas, Jon and Gandalf outside of Erebor. Cheyanne inhaled deeply, loving the fresh air as it filled her lungs completely and fully, and her eyes drifted shut in contentment before they opened again and focused on her friend.

"I wish you could stay," she said to him.

"Yeah, but…" He shrugged his shoulders. "We can't all belong here, right?"

Cheyanne sighed and wrapped her arms around him. "We'll meet again soon," she promised. "You'll need to meet the baby."

"Right," Jon agreed, grinning. "That better be a thing that happens."

Cheyanne chuckled and allowed him to pull back. Jon turned to Legolas, who was waiting patiently nearby, his gaze on the ground.

Jon approached him, and the Elf looked up. "Thank you, again," Jon said, smiling a bit. "Really. I wouldn't have made it through this without you."

"Are you positive you must go?" Legolas asked him, and not for the first time. "You could come with me, back to Mirkwood."

Jon shook his head. "What would I do in Mirkwood, Leg?"

Legolas hesitated a moment, and then sighed to himself. "Nothing, I suppose." There was a moment of silence, and then the Elf met Jon's gaze again. "When you return to Middle-earth, you will come visit me, won't you?"

"Of course," Jon replied. He watched Legolas for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "I'll uh… I'll see you then, I guess."

Cheyanne looked at Gandalf. He nodded in understanding and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the distance between Jon and Legolas disappeared, and the two were hugging. Cheyanne smiled to herself when she saw the surprise disappear from both of them as they sank into the hug, and she leaned against Thorin's arm.

The hug broke off after a few moments, and Jon withdrew with an embarrassed cough. Legolas merely dipped his head and backed away a few paces, putting his arms behind his back.

Jon glanced at Gandalf, who tapped the end of his staff against the ground a few times. Immediately, a section of the rock of the Lonely Mountain shifted and morphed into something else.

When it was done moving, Cheyanne let out a gasp and approached it, unbelieving.

"That's Dreamer's!" she said, gazing through the portal that Gandalf had created in the wall. She gestured to it, and looked back at Thorin. "I worked there."

"I owned it," Gandalf added.

"And now _I_ do," Jon concluded.

Gandalf dipped his head respectfully, and Jon exchanged a final look with Cheyanne before he stepped through the portal to Dreamer's and Earth on the other side. When he was through, he turned and faced Cheyanne again.

He winked at her. "Remember: I want to meet that baby."

Cheyanne grinned at him. "You will. I promise."

Jon nodded, and lifted a hand in farewell. Legolas returned it, and then Gandalf tapped the ground again. The portal, and Jon, disappeared a moment later, becoming the mountain once again.

Cheyanne sighed to herself, and glanced at Legolas. "You're welcome to stay, Legolas," she invited. "If you like."

The Elf bowed his head. "That is very kind of you, Queen Cheyanne, but I promised my father that I would return to Mirkwood as soon as my quest was over."

Cheyanne nodded in understanding. "You have enough provisions, then?"

"More than enough, thank you," Legolas answered. He bowed to both her and Thorin, and then straightened up again. "You will inform me when… Jon is due to return, won't you?"

Cheyanne smiled. "Of course."

"Have a safe journey, Legolas," Thorin told him. "And thank you."

The Elf merely dipped his head again, and then turned and made his way towards Dale. Cheyanne, Thorin and Gandalf watched him go until he was little more than a figure on the path leading down to the city, and then Cheyanne exhaled and looked up at Gandalf.

"How long are you staying?" she asked him.

"Until I am called somewhere else," Gandalf replied, "or until Bilbo wants to return to the Shire, which… probably won't be happening for a while, yet."

Cheyanne laughed and nodded in understanding. "He's changed," she said to Gandalf as the three of them turned and headed back into Erebor.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed, and he glanced down at her. "As have you."

"Well, obviously," Cheyanne responded, and Gandalf chuckled to himself before bowing to them and heading off in a different direction. Cheyanne watched the wizard go, and then she turned to Thorin.

"Everything all right?" Thorin asked her, and Cheyanne smiled and nodded.

"Most definitely," she said, and rested a hand on her belly, "and as it should be."

* * *

 **And that's it, folks. The end of the second part of Cheyanne's story. And, like I maybe sort of didn't hide so well in the last chapter, I am attempting to write a third and final 'book' to this series. I didn't leave this one as open ended, so that if I don't manage to finish the third one, there's no grumpiness. I mean, there might be, because of the baby and stuff, but...**

 **I can't make any promises. Going off to college is going to prove to create some challenges when it comes to free time for writing. I'm sure a lot of y'all understand that.**

 **All right, kids. Maybe I'll see you in the next one, and maybe I won't. Either way, I'll let you know one thing:**

 **She's a girl, and they name her Kamathi, which is Khuzdul for 'element of the song'. I wanted it to mean 'melody', but there wasn't a word for it, so I went with the next best thing.**

 **She looks like Thorin.**


End file.
